


make your luck

by starlight_sugar



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Heist, Fake AH Crew, Gen, Heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_sugar/pseuds/starlight_sugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After four years in prison, Geoff is ready to take his revenge on the people who locked him up. Sure, that involves robbing three casinos in one night, but who's to say it can't be done? All he needs are his right-hand woman, the best team in existence, and a couple of minor miracles. (An Ocean's Eleven AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rooster Teeth does not have my permission to use any portion of my work in their content.
> 
> This is an Ocean's Eleven AU before it's FAHC. It's a blend of both, really, but it's more towards the "let's heist" end of the spectrum than the "shooting cops" end. Regardless, I hope you enjoy.

Geoff is released from prison after one thousand, three hundred and seventy-two days.

Some of the other inmates called him obsessive for counting. Geoff disagrees. He thinks it’s only obsessive if he counted the hours, and he doesn’t remember what time it was when he was arrested. Either way, he cries when he smells the fresh air, and can anyone really blame him? He’s been there for almost four years, and it’s still a fucking miracle that they’re giving him parole three months early.

“You need to be smart about this, Ramsey,” one of the guards says, unlocking his handcuffs. Geoff didn’t like most of the guards, but this one was always a right bitch towards him. He isn’t gonna miss this guard at all. “I never want to see your face again.”

“So you’re not my parole officer,” Geoff guesses, rolling his shoulders. “That’s good. I don’t want to see you again either.”

The guard switches to the chains around Geoff’s feet. “I mean it. You can steal all the shit you want, but you need to not get caught this time. You need to not get implicated again either. They’re not gonna let it go as easily with a conviction under your belt.”

Geoff frowns as the guard stands up and begins patting him down, one last time. “So I can still steal, but I have to steal smarter?”

“Exactly.”

“You know, you’re not a very effective corrections officer.”

“And you’re a fucking awful prisoner.” The guard steps back and gives Geoff a once-over. “It helps if you don’t violate your terms of parole. That means you don’t break any laws-”

Geoff gives him a skeptical look, eyebrows raised, and the guard grimaces. “Don’t get _caught_ breaking any laws, don’t miss a check-in, and for the love of god, don’t leave the state. That’s the worst reason to have to deal with your ugly mug again.”

Geoff rubs at his jaw, already thinking of a hotel bathroom and a good shave. “You won’t see me again,” he promises. “I’m never coming back.”

Twelve hours later he crosses state lines with a stolen car and all the cash he could withdraw from his accounts. Revenge waits for no man, and it’s certainly not about to wait any longer than it already has.

#

In this business, burner phones can make or break you. Geoff figured that out early on. Some days his brain feels like an endless Rolodex of phone numbers, full from dozens of old phones thrown out and picked up through the years, countless numbers that he’ll never need to know again. He knows his, his enemies’, his allies’. He knows them all. More importantly, he knows which ones matter.

When he’s two states over and he needs to fill up his stolen Jetta, he spots a pay phone at a gas station and stares at it for ten minutes. He knows her number, and he knows she wouldn’t have changed it. He knows she’d pick up if he called.

He drives to the closest ATM instead. He needs the cash, and there’s no point in calling before he has a plan.

#

It takes him three days, a few calls to his parole officer lying through his teeth, and a countless number of calling in favors, but he ends up where he needs to be. Granted, most people probably don’t need to be waiting outside a shady liquor store for a poker dealer, but Geoff isn’t most people. Geoff is a thief, and a fucking good one, and more importantly he’s a networker. He’s here to network.

He almost gets strangled instead, but that’s probably what he deserves.

He’s waiting outside, in enough shadow that nobody can recognize him (and god, he hopes there’s not a warrant out for him yet, especially not so many miles away, but it’s better safe than sorry, always) when the door swings open. A gaggle of dimwits spills out onto the pavement, chattering about celebrities and shit that Geoff really doesn’t care about. It’s only five minutes more of waiting before he gets what he’s waiting for. He recognizes the flick of a blond ponytail, the set of the shoulders, and before he can stop himself, he says, “You look exactly the same.”

A heartbeat later the back of his head collides with the wall of the building, and there’s an elbow in his windpipe. Geoff gasps for air, because _what the fuck_ , and tries to make eye contact through the dark. “Caleb,” he wheezes out, “what the fuck?”

“How do you know that name?” Caleb demands, pressing Geoff even harder against the wall.

Geoff would answer, but Caleb has really sharp fucking elbows, apparently, and the kid is strong, and the dark is getting even hazier. He tries to tap on Caleb’s arm weakly. “Come on,” he rasps.

Caleb leans in, and Geoff can tell the exact moment they recognize him because their eyes go wide. “Oh, _shit,_ ” they say, and suddenly Geoff is sucking in air, actual air, thank god. He doubles over and just breathes for a minute and makes a mental note to never take that for granted again. Especially not around Caleb.

As soon as his vision’s clear again, he gives Caleb the most betrayed look he can manage. “Is that how they say hello in the asscrack of nowhere? Because if it is, I’m never coming back.”

“Oh, shut up,” Caleb mumbles, somewhere between embarrassed and angry. “I’m not working in the nicest place right now, you might’ve noticed.”

“You’re dealing poker in a liquor store in nowheresville, Montana.”

“Teaching poker,” they correct him. “To asshole rich kids who come up to family cabins and get bored. It pays well.”

“But you’re not using-” Geoff coughs and stands upright. “You’re not using your real name?”

“Jocelyn Andrews,” Caleb answers. “You know, better safe than sorry.”

Geoff does know. Out of everyone he’s ever met who was involved in illegal shit, Caleb had always taken the most steps to protect their family. This is just one of those steps. “Okay, Jocelyn, do you normally wall-slam people who are just trying to have a conversation?”

“Only when the people are standing in the shadows, waiting for me outside of work.” Caleb looks Geoff up and down, eyes narrowing critically. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, you know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I thought you were in prison.”

“Got out early.”

“So you’re violating parole?”

Geoff shrugs. “I’ve got some stuff to do,” he says as vaguely as possible. Caleb’s clearly not buying it, which he understands completely. Caleb knew Geoff when he was knocking over convenience stores, not banks and art galleries. They can tell when Geoff is lying. It’s annoying as fuck. “I just wanted to, you know, come by, say hello.”

“Try and squeeze information out of me,” Caleb finishes. Geoff doesn’t deny it, and they sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose. “Okay, fine, I’ll take you out to dinner. But whatever you and Jack are planning, you can’t-”

“Jack’s not here,” Geoff says quickly. Definitely too quickly, judging by the way Caleb’s shoulders go rigid. Whoops. “I mean, she’s. Busy.”

“You mean you’ve called her and she couldn’t be here?” Caleb says, although they very clearly already know the answer.

“Sure,” Geoff says. “Let’s go with that. Did you say dinner?”

“Why haven’t you called Jack yet?”

“Because I don’t know what she’s doing,” Geoff says honestly. Around five hundred days into Geoff’s sentence, he’d informed the warden that he didn’t want any visitors him anymore. It didn’t affect anyone, except for Jack. Four years is a lot of time to stay tied to one place, he knew that better than anyone, and he wasn’t about to tie Jack to him. She deserved the chance to get out and get clean if she wanted, or to go make a name for herself, or to just get out and go elsewhere and _live._ If he had to force her out to make that happen, well, she could kill him herself when he found her again.

Caleb sighs. They look a lot older than Geoff remembers. “That’s a bad reason, Geoff.”

“Whatever, it’s my bad reason. Dinner?”

“I know a place,” Caleb says. “Did you steal your car?”

“Yeah,” Geoff says. “We should take yours.”

“Okay, but first-” Caleb takes a couple of careful steps forward and hauls Geoff in for a hug, gentle but firm. Caleb has always been weird about hugs, too careful, and normally that’s just fine by Geoff, but it’s been a long time. He could use a hug from someone who’s known him for a while.

Geoff gingerly wraps his arms around Caleb’s shoulders. “It’s good to see you, buddy.”

“Yeah, you too.” Caleb pulls back and offers a tiny smile. “Let’s go get dinner.”

Caleb still owns the same shitty blue hatchback that they owned when Geoff went to prison. They’re also still the most terrifyingly competent driver Geoff has ever met, steering them smoothly toward the diner at fifteen miles above the speed limit.

“I hate it when you drive,” Geoff tells them as soon as they’re safely in a booth. “Fucking hate it. I’m always pretty sure that my dick is going to fall off, and where what will I be?”

“You’ll be better off,” Caleb says dryly.

“That wasn’t very nice, Caleb.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Geoff grins. They’re still a little shit. He missed them. “Why’d you come up north? Did you miss the snow?”

Caleb shakes their head fondly. “I have my reasons for coming up here. But come on, business before pleasure, right? Can we talk about why you’re here lurking outside my place of employment?”

When Geoff met Caleb, they were a pre-med undergrad who was okay with their next-door neighbor coming over and paying through his nose to get butterfly bandages some days. Caleb saved Geoff’s ass more times than he can count, and Jack’s too, but they were always gentle. Even when they started turning down shady paths, even when they were funding their education by dealing poker for probable mobsters in the basement of a Chinese restaurant, they were friendly. They never would’ve said business before pleasure. Geoff doesn’t know what happened in the last four years that turned them into the kind of person who slams strangers into walls, but he’s pretty sure there’s someone he owes an ass-kicking. Caleb is a good kid, or at least they’re supposed to be. Not violent.

“Yeah, sure,” Geoff says anyways, because the business still matters, the past be damned. “You still know everything about the thieves’ world, don’t you?”

Caleb snorts. “I don’t think I could stop knowing if I tried. People like you keep asking me.”

“Do you need me to hire you a bodyguard?” Geoff demands before he can think better of it. Most of his assets are still frozen, but he’s sure Jack would pay for it if he asked her, and God forbid something serious ever happens to Caleb if he could’ve prevented it.

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Caleb says, “so I’m going to let that go. No, I don’t. Business. C’mon, Geoff, what’s business?”

Geoff takes a deep breath. “Where the fuck is Kovic?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Caleb says.

“I’m not going to like anything you have to say,” Geoff argues. “Unless you’re going to tell me that fucker is six feet under and I can still go piss on his grave-”

“We’re in public, Geoff, you can’t just-”

“-then I’m not going to be happy, so you might as well just tell me.”

Caleb leans back in their seat. “He and Bruce are in a crew. They’re called Funhaus.”

“Funhouse?” Geoff repeats.

“Nah, the German kind of haus,” Caleb says, because they’re magic and can read Geoff’s mind, apparently. “Of course, if you ask almost anyone who Greene and Kovic are, they won’t know. They’re not the faces of it. That’s some rich friend of theirs and his wife. Williams or Willis or something.”

Geoff nods. That could be important. And of course those fuckers are lying low. Trying to hide. But nobody can hide from Caleb. “So what does Funhaus with the German kind of haus do?”

“Gambling. They own casinos.”

“Casinos, plural? How many?”

“They have two on the Vegas strip and another one a couple miles away.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Geoff says flatly.

Caleb shakes their head. “They’re doing well for themselves. I thought you and Jack were friends with them.”

Geoff doesn’t know how to begin getting into that shitstorm, so he doesn’t bother. “Vegas, huh?”

“I thought you couldn’t leave the state.”

“Can’t leave the state of Texas,” Geoff says. “But, uh, that ship has sailed.”

Caleb rolls their eyes. “Of course it has. Why would you ever do anything the legal way?”

Geoff grins and settles back in his seat. “You get me, Caleb. I like that. I might need a dealer on this operation, if you’re interested.”

Caleb sighs. “I can’t just pack up and go. If you need me I need to know in advance. I’ve got a life here, Geoff.”

Teaching rich Montana kids poker doesn’t count as a life, as far as Geoff is concerned, but fuck, he doesn’t know what Caleb’s been through. Maybe it’s for the best place for them to be. “I’ll warn you,” he promises instead. “But I have one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Is Jack okay?”

Caleb visibly pauses. “I think you could ask her yourself,” they say delicately.

“I could,” Geoff agrees. It’d be easy. He considered calling her every day in prison. He knows her number forwards, backwards, and probably in Spanish, if he tried. “And I will. I just want to know.”

“I don’t really keep up with her.”

“But you have a guess?”

“She’s probably in Texas, probably still making heist plans for people who need them.” Caleb sighs. “What do you want from me, Geoff? This isn’t anything you couldn’t have guessed.”

Geoff shakes his head. He knows there’s no good way to explain cutting off visits, and that Jack is more likely to kill him on sight than anything else. But that’s not the point of coming to Montana. He’s here to get information, but he’s also here because he’s known Caleb almost as long as he’s known Jack. He likes them, too, and if they’re together, they might as well talk about it.

“I’m working on it,” he says. “Business is over now, right? So we can just talk?”

“What do you have to talk about?”

“I read a couple of good books in prison.” Geoff pauses. “I mean, I read the Bible.”

“Does that count as a good book?”

“Better than what some of the guys were reading.”

“Okay, you have my attention,” Caleb admits. “Let’s hear it.”

It is, Geoff thinks, ridiculously nice to be able to describe prison to someone who hasn’t been in prison. It makes him seem badass, even if he tried to be a model prisoner to get out early. He has all of the cool stories and none of the cool scars that most prisoners get. That means he’s one of the lucky ones, probably. Besides, nobody wants to beat up an art thief, especially not one who was shitty enough to get caught.

#

The Funhaus Entertainment Group owns two casinos on the Las Vegas Strip and one not too far away, just like Caleb said. What Caleb hadn’t mentioned was that Funhaus hadn’t built the casinos from the ground up. That shit takes time, way longer than four years. No, Funhaus bought two casinos from MGM.

That is the kind of money that you don’t just come by. That is the kind of money that you supposedly get from investing and making smart business choices, and maybe some of that was what they did. He doesn’t know Willems, maybe the guy is just rich. But that’s also the kind of money that you can get from stealing a couple of Van Goghs on temporary display in an art museum. Of course, you can’t do that kind of heist alone, especially not if you’re just two people. No, what you do then is you call in two more people and hope you can trust them to pull it off.

Geoff trusted Bruce and Adam to pull it off. He’s had a long time to be pissed at them for how things went, and even though he’s not about to let that go, it’s kind of a cold, simmering anger. Now, he’s mostly angry because they have the kind of money that it takes to buy three MGM casinos, and that means two things.

First of all, it means they probably still stole and sold the paintings, even though Geoff went to prison. But second of all, it means Jack probably didn’t get her cut of the sale, and that’s fucking abominable. As if he needed more reasons to want to take down Funhaus.

The problem is, being in prison for four years put him pretty out of touch with the scene and with his own personal finances. Whether or not he likes it, he’s going to need all hands on deck for this. But first he needs some backup and an investor, and he knows exactly where to start.

#

Gavin’s face breaks into a smile as soon as the door swings open. “Geoffrey!” he exclaims, and throws his arms around Geoff’s neck.

“Hi, Gav,” Geoff says fondly, even as he staggers a couple of steps backwards.

“They let you out!” Gavin’s arms tighten. “Look at you, all in one piece.”

“Yeah, look at you, did you get taller or something?” Geoff can’t resist ruffling Gavin’s hair. Gavin squawks and wrenches back, giving Geoff a look of betrayal, but it doesn’t stop Geoff from grinning. “You miss me?”

“Every day,” Gavin says somberly. “Come on in, I have liquor!”

“Oh, thank god,” Geoff says fervently, and follows Gavin into the villa. It’s a sprawling thing, far enough from Vegas proper that it can take up as much desert space as it wants but not so far that it’s inconvenient to get to the city. Geoff had loved it when it was his, and even after he sold it to Gavin he visited as often as he could. Even now, with paintings and photos he doesn’t recognize on the walls, it feels comfortable here.

“How’s Meg?” Geoff asks as they make their way to the kitchen.

Gavin hums as he opens a cabinet and pulls down two glass tumblers. “Good as ever. Off in Italy for a while.”

“Work or vacation?”

“Not sure, she didn’t say. She probably sends her love, in any case.” He goes to another cabinet and pulls out a bottle of tequila. “Do they have good booze in prison, Geoff?”

“Not as good as that,” Geoff admits. His mouth is watering at the sight of the bottle, but he can’t drink. Yet. Probably. “Wait, but first-”

Gavin gives him a look of dramatic bewilderment. “You want to talk about something before you drink? Prison _has_ changed you.”

Geoff gives him the most unimpressed stare he can manage, and Gavin relents immediately, leaning back against his counter. “Is this a business call?”

“Sort of,” Geoff admits. “I’ve got a target.”

“Gallery? Museum?”

“Casino.”

Gavin whistles lowly. “Lofty dreams, Geoff. Very lofty.”

“Three casinos,” Geoff admits, because he might as well put all the cards on the table.

“That’s not lofty, that’s impossible.”

“You can rob a casino.”

“Not three.”

“You can rob three if all of their money is in the same safe.”

That part may or may not be true, but Geoff is willing to bet this whole plan on it. For one thing, it’d make sense to centralize; for another, it seems like something Bruce and Adam would do. Besides, if anyone will know about this, it’s Gavin. He’s got a pretty good casino of his own, only a handful of blocks away from where Funhaus’s fourth casino is supposed to pop up. Geoff did his damn research. He’s asking the right person.

He knows he’s asking the right person, because Gavin raises his eyebrows. “You mean Funhaus.”

“I mean Funhaus,” Geoff says, and mentally goes over the pitch he has prepared for this. “Listen, I get it if you went legit while I was in prison, but I think it’d be for the best if-”

“Done,” Gavin says, and uncorks the tequila.

Geoff blinks. “Done,” he repeats. “Already?”

Gavin starts pouring the drinks. “Let’s review. One, I like you. Two, I’ve got more than enough money. And three, Funhaus is _terrible._ They’re trying to sabotage my only casino, and Willems is a right prick. How much do you need?”

“Uh,” Geoff says. Shit, he didn’t think he’d get this far. “Um. A lot?”

“What’s Jack’s estimate?”

Geoff cringes. “I haven’t called her yet.”

“About the plan?”

“At all.”

Gavin sets down the tequila bottle with a clatter. He looks scandalized. “Geoff!”

“I know, I know,” Geoff sighs. “I will, but-”

“How long have you been out and you haven’t called her?”

“A week, but I’m-”

“A _week!_ ” Gavin hands him a glass of tequila. “I was going to say cheers for getting out of jail, but I take it back. No cheers until you call Jack.”

“I’m gonna call her!”

Well. Now he is. Because he knows Gavin well enough to know that if he doesn’t call Jack himself, Gavin won’t be afraid to call her and tell her where Geoff is. And then she’ll be doubly pissed at him, which is pretty bad because he has no idea how pissed she already is.

“Alright,” Gavin says disbelievingly. “She’s better at the estimates than you are, so I’ll ask her as soon as you call her.”

“I’m gonna call her,” Geoff repeats, and lifts his glass. “C’mon. Toast me. You know you wanna.”

Gavin sighs and clinks his glass against Geoff’s, but his exasperation melts into a smile. “Welcome back to the real world.”

“Happy to be here,” Geoff says honestly, and takes a long drink of the tequila.

#

Geoff doesn’t call Jack.

He has a list of rationalizations as long as his arm, and some of them are even sort of true. He doesn’t know what Jack is up to. He doesn’t know where she is. He doesn’t know if she’s still in the game, if the number is still in service, if she’s still mad at him for cutting off her visits. Actually, strike that, she’s definitely mad at him for that. She’s going to kick his ass to kingdom come.

But most of the reasons aren’t true. Or at least, they’re true, but not absolute. Geoff knows that. He knows that he misses Jack like a limb and she’s probably going to feel the same when she sees him, and that should be enough to call, but it’s not. He’s not ready for this yet.

Anyways, Geoff has a list of _perfectly good_ reasons that he isn’t going to call Jack, and he cycles through every one of them as Gavin asks for an explanation. That should be enough, except-

“I don’t know what she’s up to,” Geoff says, the first time Gavin asks.

Gavin makes an irritated noise. “That’s because you haven’t called her.”

“I don’t know where she is,” he tries on day two.

That one also doesn’t fly. Gavin frowns at him. “Last I heard she was in Texas, but plane tickets aren’t terribly hard to come by.”

He thinks he finally has a win on day six when he says “I don’t think she wants to see me.” Gavin doesn’t answer that one, just presses his lips together and moves on, and Geoff thinks he can get back to planning and research. Heists take fucking work, okay, and so what if Jack was always better at this part than him, he can do this on his own.

And then, on day seven, glorious day seven where Gavin is probably going to stop asking and Geoff can stop lying through his teeth, Geoff comes down the stairs in the morning and freezes.

There’s a second where he thinks that he can sneak back upstairs, just live a little longer without food and coffee, but Gavin says “Ta, Geoffrey,” and he knows he’s absolutely fucked.

“Who’s Geoffrey?” Jack says, idly flipping pages in the newspaper, Jesus, where the fuck did she get a newspaper? “He sounds like a real fucking asshole.”

Geoff cringes. That’s totally fair. All of the shit he’s about to get is completely well-deserved.

“Jack, don’t be mean,” Gavin chides.

Jack doesn’t look up from her newspaper. “Gav, how long was Geoff in prison? Give or take.”

“Erm.” Gavin shoots Geoff a calculating look. Geoff tries not to squirm. “Four years?”

“I actually called the prison as soon as I hung up with you,” Jack says. “He’s been doing well about checking in with his parole officer, they still think he’s in Texas. He even showed up for his first face-to-face check-in, although he missed this week’s. They let him out a little under two weeks ago, which means that from the day of his sentencing to the day they let him go on parole, he was there for two hundred weeks, give or take a few.”

“A hundred and ninety-six,” Geoff mumbles, despite all of his better judgment.

Jack flips pages in her newspaper again, a little more forcefully this time. “I visited him every week at first. Tuesday afternoons. I actually made it over a year into his sentence, seventy-something weeks in, and then one day I show up and they inform me that he doesn’t want anyone visiting him anymore. I’m pretty sure that none of my letters made it in either.”

Gavin looks appalled. “Is that true?”

Geoff kind of wants to die. She’s turning Gavin against him, which is the last thing he needs. “Well,” he squeaks.

Jack shuts the newspaper and folds it in half, almost ripping it in the process. She still doesn’t look at Geoff, but now that he can see her face it’s a lot harder to breathe. She looks almost the same, but her laughter lines seem less defined, and she looks _hurt._ He did hurt her. God, he is the shittiest person he knows, and that includes all the fucks he met in prison.

“He decided he was done with me,” Jack says, and Geoff wants to argue with that, but he’s frozen, watching her ignore him. “He gets out of prison, I haven’t seen him in two and a half years and he still doesn’t call me, because apparently he doesn’t want me in his life-”

“That’s not what it was,” Geoff bursts out before he can stop himself. God, he’s such a fucking _idiot,_ he hadn’t even thought of how the cut-off would seem to her. “I wanted you-”

Jack slams the newspaper on the table and turns to face him, eyes blazing. “You wanted me to what, Geoff? To move on and forget about my best friend who got locked up? To just try and live my life with the knowledge that you decided you’d be better off rotting alone?”

“To be able to live your life without being tied to some asshole in a prison!” There are tears, sudden and harsh, at the back of Geoff’s eyes. This wasn’t how he meant to meet her again. “You deserve to be able to go out and do whatever the fuck you want to do without worrying about me, I’m not going to hold you back.”

“I could’ve stopped visiting any time I wanted!” Jack’s fingers twist into her hair and tug down hard, and Geoff can feel tears dripping down his cheeks. She still does the same things when she’s angry. She was just fine without him. Jack doesn’t even seem to register that he’s crying. “If I found something worth leaving for, I would’ve left you on my own. But instead you went and forced me out like I did something wrong, and you didn’t even fucking tell me why? You don’t think I deserve better?”

“It wasn’t about you,” Geoff says, but it sounds hollow to his own ears.

Jack lets out an almost hysterical laugh. “Not about me? You making decisions about my wellbeing isn’t about me? That’s weak even for you, Geoff.”

Geoff shakes his head, unable to take his eyes off of her. She’s just as fucking brilliant as he remembered. Even when she’s screaming at him she’s still the best thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he croaks. He lifts a hand to scrub away his tears, but he still meets Jack’s eyes as evenly as possible. “I was being selfish. I was trying to rationalize my own shit and I forgot to think about you.”

“Did you forget to think about me when you didn’t call me for two weeks after you got out?”

“You were all I thought about,” Geoff says. It’s too honest, and he almost regrets it, but he means it. “I didn’t want to show up half-baked and out of touch-”

“What the _fuck_ does that mean?” Jack pulls at her hair again and shoots a look at Gavin. It’s probably meant to be a “can you believe this fucker” kind of look.

Gavin, who has never looked so uncomfortable in all the time Geoff has known him, laughs nervously. “I’ll let you finish this on your own,” he says, and almost sprints out of the room.

Jack fixes her attention on Geoff again. He can feel the sheer fury radiating off of her. “Geoff, I have seen you when you are blackout drunk. I have seen you when you shit your pants. I have seen you when you tripped over a sidewalk and broke your ankle. I have given you emergency sutures, for Christ’s sake, do you actually think I would give a fuck if you didn’t have your shit together immediately after getting out of prison?”

Well. Not when she puts it like that. But Geoff isn’t about to tell her that just yet. “I didn’t want to,” he starts, but his throat closes up before he can finish. There’s not a single honest way to finish that sentence, and there are no lies that he’s willing to tell.

“You didn’t want to,” Jack repeats dangerously. “Do you want to elaborate on that?”

Geoff swallows and starts again, voice thick, tears in his eyes again. “I didn’t want to make you take care of me.”

“The only time you’ve ever successfully made me stop taking care of you was when you had the Texas prison system backing you up, dumbass.”

Geoff laughs, choked-off and sad. “Yeah,” he says, and then he can’t think of anything else to say. He wipes at his eyes one more time.

Jack folds her arms. “You look like shit, by the way.”

“So I’ve been told.” Geoff scratches at his beard-in-progress absently. “I never thought stubble was my look.”

“I never thought the beard was your look, but apparently you’re going back to it.” She shakes her head. “No fucking taste.”

“I’ll shave it,” Geoff offers. “If you don’t like it.

Jack stares at him. “That’s not what I meant.”

He shrugs. “You’re right about these things sometimes. I trust you.” _I missed you,_ he does not say, because it’s not enough. Especially not now, when she probably wants him to build a monument to her to make up for what an asshole he was. And especially not when he’s willing to build that monument.

She keeps staring at him. Geoff shoves his hands in his pockets and just looks at her. It’s been a long time since he could see his best friend and she looks good, she really does. She’s still wearing the fucking ugliest Hawaiian print shirt he’s ever seen, really, it’s like her taste has gotten worse since he got arrested. Her hair is the same length and the same shade of red, and he could almost pretend things are the same if it weren’t for how very clearly hurt she is. How much he very clearly hurt her.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Jack says at last. “You should’ve called me.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, that means so fucking much,” she mumbles, but he can feel the rage subsiding. “Never again, got it?”

“Never again,” Geoff repeats. “No more arresting, no more getting caught, no more trying to do what’s best for you without talking to you about what you want.”

“That’s not what I meant either,” Jack says, but she takes a step towards him.

“No more leaving you,” Geoff says, and braces himself. It turns out to be useful, when she runs at him and flings her arms around his waist. Geoff immediately lifts a hand to the back of her head, and she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

“I haven’t hugged you in four years,” Jack mumbles. She’s squeezing him like she’s still angry at him. Geoff can understand that.

“And that’s the longest it’ll ever happen again,” Geoff says firmly, pulling her in closer.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“You should be, I was a piece of shit.”

“Yeah,” she sniffs. “You always are.”

It’s another couple minutes before she loosens her grip. Geoff can’t really say he minds.

#

“Geoff has a job,” Gavin announces. It’d taken him a while to come out of hiding, and by that time Jack and Geoff had already worked about halfway through their sort of obligatory “we should talk about the fact that Geoff fucked up” conversation. Geoff hopes Jack feels better after it, because he’s not really sure that he does.

On the bright side, Gavin apparently ordered lunch while he was hiding away, so Geoff certainly isn’t going to give him shit. Not after he ordered gourmet pizza for them. God, he loves Vegas food sometimes.

Jack slants a look at Geoff. “A job as in minimum-wage burger-flipping, like most convicted felons get, or a job as in the thing that made you a convicted felon?”

“Oh, the second one,” Geoff says. “C’mon, you know me.”

“I wish I didn’t,” Jack mutters. “Already, Geoff, really?”

“And it’s a hard one,” Gavin adds delightedly. “Go on, Geoff, tell her.”

“Yeah, Geoff, tell her,” Jack says. “What hard heist job are you planning in your second week out of prison, without me?”

“Okay, hold on, I was always going to call you,” Geoff says quickly. “I didn’t want to show up with some shitty heist plan, so I’ve been trying to do research-”

“Without me,” Jack repeats.

Geoff wilts. “Yeah. I should’ve called you.”

“Good.” Jack leans back. “You don’t think you’re rusty at all, do you?”

“Oh, I absolutely am,” Geoff says. “That’s why we’re going to get a team.”

“Well, that and it’s impossible,” Gavin murmurs.

Jack looks at Gavin in surprise. “Impossible? Really, Gav? You don’t normally put your money in the impossible.”

Gavin shrugs. “If anyone could do it, it’s the two of you. Besides, I don’t like the target.”

“Are we hitting a museum?”

“Casinos,” Geoff says. “You ever heard of Funhaus?”

“Yeah, the Willems company,” Jack says. Geoff takes a moment to be grateful that she hadn’t said Adam or Bruce. They’re smart guys, and they probably got the fuck out of Jack’s way after Geoff went to jail. They must be laying low. He has to hope that she doesn’t know that they’re with Funhaus.

“Well,” Geoff says. “We’re going after them.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I’m totally serious.”

“They own three casinos, Geoff!”

“They’ll still own the casinos,” Geoff says. “They’ll just be a little short on cash. They’re rich, they can afford it.”

“Most people can’t afford losing a couple million dollars,” Gavin mutters.

Jack rounds on him next. “And what the fuck do you have against Funhaus?”

“They’re building right next to one of my properties! That’s bad business.”

“Bad for you, maybe,” Geoff says. “Not them.”

Gavin looks wounded. “Do you want my help or don’t you?”

“Geoff,” Jack says, softer now. “This is a stupid idea.”

“I know,” Geoff says. He does know. He’s not great at technical research, not even with Gavin’s resources at his disposal, but he knows enough to know that the blueprints he’s seen are fucking scary. James Willems doesn’t fuck around with his casinos. Geoff can respect that, even if it’s about to make his job a nightmare. This is an impossible job with just him and Jack. If they can get a good enough group together, it’s a little closer to possible, but they’re still probably going to get fucked, hard, if they’re not ready. It’s his job to make sure they’re ready.

“What did Funhaus do to you?”

Geoff shrugs. “Willems owns some Van Goghs,” he offers weakly.

The joke falls flat. Jack’s eyes narrow. “Do you want to go back to prison? Because I can arrange that. All I have to do is call your parole officer and tell him where you are, and-”

“Whoa, whoa!” Geoff holds up his hands. “Jack. I want to knock these casinos over because Willems is a douchebag, because I’m pretty sure his wife is in the mafia-”

“Or that Funhaus is just the mafia,” Gavin adds.

“-and because I’ve already seen what happens when a heist goes wrong. And that one wasn’t even worth it. But this one won’t go wrong.”

Jack leans back in her chair. “And why’s that?”

“Because you don’t want me to go back to prison,” Geoff says. “And I will be damned if I ever let you get arrested. So between the two of us we’re going to be determined to make this plan airtight.”

“And what if I say no?”

“Then I’ll find someone else to run point.”

There’s a second where Jack looks thrown, like she hadn’t expected him to say it, or at least not to mean it. But he does. Geoff has been in this game long enough that he knows other pointmen that he can trust. Not nearly as much as Jack, of course, but more than a stranger. All he knows is that this heist is happening come hell or high water, and if that means he’s calling in his second choice to help him, then he’ll do it.

“You actually would, wouldn’t you,” Jack says flatly. “You really want to do this.”

“He’s damn serious,” Gavin mutters. “And I trust him when he’s serious.”

Geoff leans in towards Jack, holding her gaze. “I can’t do this without my right hand woman,” he says softly.

Jack sighs, shoulders slumping, and she shakes her head. “As if I’d ever let you try,” she murmurs, and relief explodes in Geoff’s chest. “It sounds like fun.”

“Yes!” Gavin cheers, throwing a fist in the air. “Heisting!”

“Heisting,” Geoff says. God, it’s good to be back.

Jack grins. “Three casinos, huh? We’re going to need a hell of a team.”

“Yeah, we are,” Geoff agrees. “Lucky for you, I already started on a list.”

#

As it turns out, a lot of people on Geoff’s list are retired.

“I don’t understand how this happened,” he says, staring down at the list. “Where did they go?”

Jack rolls her eyes. “Gav, we know some people, don’t we?”

Gavin’s eyes light up. “Oh, we know some people. Let’s get to planning.”

#

Jack takes a sip of her hard lemonade and looks between Geoff, Gavin, and the swathes of papers spread out in front of them on Gavin’s coffee table. “First thing’s first. We need someone in the casino.”

“Caleb,” Geoff says at once.

Gavin frowns. “Last I heard they went up to the midwest.”

“God knows why they chose there,” Jack mutters. “They’ve never dealt in Vegas, have they?”

“They’ve dealt in plenty of other states,” Geoff points out. “And when I saw them last week-”

“When you _what,_ ” Jack says flatly.

Geoff winces. Probably not the best thing to bring up. “When I went to check on them because I figured if anyone needed backup it would be them and not you?”

“Good cover story,” Gavin says.

“Hey, thanks,” Geoff mutters. Jack is still glaring at him, half-hurt and half-angry. “And I was avoiding you because I’m a coward?” he tries.

“You’re a total coward,” Jack agrees. “Are they doing well? I haven’t heard from them since the kidnapping.”

Geoff blinks. He must’ve misheard that. “Since the what?”

“That was just last year,” Gavin says, sounding sad. “They were working in Arizona and someone lost a lot of money on a bad bet while they were dealing. He tried to kidnap them and they got away, but they haven’t been quite the same since.”

“Jesus,” Geoff breathes. That explains why they hadn’t been particularly happy about him popping up out of the shadows. “Will they still do it?”

“Maybe,” Jack says thoughtfully. “We’ve never let anything happen to them, and Willems’s casinos are so above-board that he wouldn’t let anything happen to them.”

“They were acting like they would when I talked to them. Mark them down as a maybe?”

Jack writes a note on her papers and moves on. “We can call them. Are they going by Caleb?”

“Jocelyn something.”

“Jocelyn Something?” Gavin repeats. “That’s a shit last name.”

Geoff rolls his eyes. “It’s Anderson or something. Andrews. Just say Jocelyn. What’s next?”

“We’ll need munitions,” Gavin says. “And I know who’ll do it.”

Jack glances at him. “The Joneses?”

“The Joneses,” Gavin says delightedly. “I called Michael last night and he says they’re not doing much of anything right now, so they’ll do it.”

“They?” Geoff says, at a loss. He’d worked with Michael a couple times before. The kid thought of explosions like art, and he was a genius. He was also kind of a loner. “Does he have a brother or something?”

“Wife, actually,” Jack says, writing something down. “You might’ve met her once or twice. Tuggey.”

Geoff frowns. “Red hair, talked a lot about chemistry?”

“Yeah, it turns out the two of them are even better at blowing shit up when you put them together. They tied the knot a year or two back.”

“And they’re a perfect fit for this,” Gavin finishes happily. “They can be in town as soon as tomorrow, if we ask them.”

Geoff glances at Jack. “They’re good?”

“Oh, they’re good,” Jack says, tapping her pen on the table. “We can definitely use them. We’re going to need a grifter, too, and I think I know who we can use.”

“Is Ray still in the business?”

“Nah, that fucker retired and moved to Florida. He’s conning tourists now.” Jack smiles fondly. “Won’t be the same without him.” Geoff has to agree.

“Who can we use, then?” Gavin says.

“Her name’s Kdin, and it’d take some doing to track her down, but I know she’ll say yes.”

Geoff frowns. “I don’t know her.”

“She’s a little newer on the scene, but I’ve done a couple of things with her and she’s absolutely brilliant. Also, she grew up in Vegas, so she’ll know things we don’t about town.”

Gavin nods in approval. After a second, Geoff does too. He might not know Kdin, but if Jack trusts her, then he will too. “We’re going to need some escape vehicles, right? Does Ryan still fix cars?”

“He does. We can call him.” Jack glances at Gavin. “Right?”

Gavin’s face lights up. “I haven’t seen Ryan in months!”

“He won’t be busy, will he?”

“Oh, never. Not if we call.”

“Especially not if we say Geoff’s here,” Jack adds.

Geoff looks at her suspiciously. “What does that mean?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Jack says, but she and Gavin exchange a meaningful look. He wants to ask what that’s about, but if they’re already doing meaningful looks, he’s probably too far on the outside to understand what’s going on. Either way, Ryan is one of the best getaway drivers he’s ever worked with. The guy’s a fucking maniac. He’ll be glad to see the guy again.

Geoff, magnanimously, decides to let it go and move on. “Are we going to need a grease man?”

“Probably,” Jack says, mouth thinning. “I don’t know anyone who I trust enough to call. I’ll check with Michael and Ryan once they’re here, see if they know anyone. All that we really need is a hacker.”

“I know someone,” Gavin offers. “Good guy.”

“Good hacker?” Geoff says warily.

Gavin nods. “Name’s Matt. He’s bloody good with a computer.”

“How’d you meet him?”

“He was playing piano in a bar I went to.” Gavin shrugs. “Bought him a drink, got to talking, and a month later he showed up hacking for a bank heist. I funded some equipment for them.”

“Did the heist work out?” Jack asks, leaning forward.

Gavin pauses. “Wellllllll.”

“Gav,” Geoff says warningly. If this guy can’t manage a bank heist, he can’t manage a casino heist.

“It didn’t, but it was because the guys started shooting hostages, so Matt locked them in the bank till the cops showed up.”

Jack whistles lowly. “That’s even better than you just saying it worked.”

“Can we call him?” Geoff demands.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve got his number. He comes over for movie nights sometimes.” Gavin smiles sunnily. “Like I said, good guy.”

Jack writes something down on her paper. “So we just need a greaseman?”

“We’ll work that out later,” Geoff says dismissively. He hasn’t been to the Strip in a while, but he’s willing to bet that there’s still an acrobat or two willing to contort themselves to get some extra cash. “So we start calling people?”

Jack nods. “Gavin, you said Michael and Lindsay can come into town. Can you get them here by the end of the week?”

“I can get them here by the end of the night,” Gavin promises, reaching for his phone.

“Geoff, I don’t think you should be making many calls,” Jack says, almost apologetically. “Don’t want the whole world to know you’re back. But you can get Caleb here, right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Geoff says, and pauses. “Maybe not right away, but I can call them. They made me promise I’d give them advance warning.”

“Three days is advance warning,” Jack says. “Gav, you call Matt, I’ll call Ryan and start running down leads on Kdin, and we’ll all keep our eyes out for an acrobat. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!” Gavin says cheerily. “A team of ten. We’ve never had a team this big, have we?”

“We’ve never had a heist this big,” Geoff counters. It’s almost terrifying in its scope, when he stops to think about it. Willems owns three casinos. That’s millions of dollars, easily. Tens of millions. “Jack, how big’s our haul?”

“Depends when we hit,” Jack says musingly. “We’d need a night that’s more chaotic than normal to give us more cover. Something that’ll have a lot of people there to bet.”

“Super Bowl?”

“That’s not for a few months.”

“Kentucky Derby.”

“Also not for a few months.” Jack raises her eyebrows. “Did you forget what month it is?”

“I’m honestly not sure what month it is,” Geoff admits. Prison has a way of doing that to a guy.

“I think you’re forgetting why people go to Willems’s casino to begin with,” Gavin says. When Geoff and Jack turn to him, he grins. “Have you ever heard of UFC?”

#

By virtue of being the newest person in town, and the newest person to be a part of society at large, Geoff gets the high honor of venturing into town for groceries the next morning.

“This is bullshit,” he complains, even though he gets to drive Gavin’s Aston Martin and that means he shouldn’t be complaining at all. “I don’t even know what a chip on a credit card means, how do you expect me to pay for things?”

“You insert the chip in the chip reader, and it reads the chip,” Jack says patiently. “If anyone asks say it’s a new card so you don’t know how it works.”

“It is a new card, and I don’t know how it works.”

“Then you’re ahead of the game!”

“We really don’t need groceries that badly, do we?”

Gavin scoffs. “Do you want to eat?”

Geoff considers making some kind of joke about starving in prison, but he doesn’t want Jack to yell at him or at the state prisons in Texas, so it’s probably not worth it. “Fine,” he sighs. “Where am I going?”

Gavin gives him directions to a supermarket, and Geoff drives the damn Aston Martin. And it’s cool, because driving Gavin’s cars is always cool. And he gets the damn milk, and the damn eggs, and the whiskey and everything else on the list.

He’s never going to admit it, but there’s something weirdly pleasant about being back in society. Grocery shopping is one of those things that’s been pretty constant throughout the past few decades, and he’s glad to see that’s still true. It’s nice and routine. He knows what he’s doing, and he doesn’t feel like Geoff Ramsey, convicted felon. He just feels like a regular dude, going out and getting groceries for his friends, and then driving home in an Aston Martin. Exactly like the general population does. And it’s good to be back to normal, out in public, with all the other assholes. For instance, there’s a dude who walks directly into Geoff. General population assholes. Oh, how he missed them.

The kid bumps into him while he’s on his way out to the parking lot, holding four plastic bags of groceries. Geoff nearly drops the bag with the eggs in it, and he turns to glare at the kid. “Hey, watch out, will you?”

To his surprise, the kid turns around and gives Geoff a look of wide-eyed honest guilt. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. You didn’t drop anything, did you?”

Geoff looks pointedly at all of his bags, still in his hands, and at the floor, noticeably clear of any broken eggs or glass. “No, I’ve got it all, but thanks.”

“Are you sure?” the kid says, and okay, there’s something weird about this, it’s official. Nobody should ever be so this wide-eyed and genuine about groceries, especially not when about half of those groceries are actually booze.

Geoff shifts his weight as subtly as possible. The weight in his pocket where his wallet was is gone, and the kid’s hands are behind his back. He’s good, Geoff has to admit it. He didn’t even notice when the kid lifted it. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

The kid looks relieved. “Oh, good. Have a good day, mister.” With that, he starts into the store.

“You shouldn’t use my credit card, though,” Geoff says conversationally, and the kid stops moving. “At least, not the one with my real name on it. My parole officer thinks I’m a few hundred miles away, and I’d hate to get caught in Vegas.”

The kid turns around, brows furrowed. “What’s your real name?”

Geoff shrugs. “There are two credit cards in there. One of them’s mine, one of them is a friend’s. You can take that gamble, or you can give me back my wallet and let me talk at you for a while.”

The kid sighs and holds out Geoff’s wallet, looking rueful. “Most people don’t notice.”

“Most people aren’t me,” Geoff says. “I mean, I can’t take it back, because I’ve got all these fucking bags-”

“Not a problem,” the kid says, and smoothly steps forward and drops Geoff’s wallet back in his pocket. “I’ll go rob someone else, don’t worry.”

Geoff shakes his head. This kid is good, and he’s fresh-faced and likable, and Jack is going to kill him, but he thinks he has an idea. “What’s your name?”

That, of all things, is what sets the kid on edge. “Trevor,” he answers anyways, looking cautious.

“Trevor,” Geoff repeats. “Is this how you make a living? Pickpocketing people in a grocery store?”

“I normally go for tourists on the Strip,” Trevor says candidly. “But, you know, I gotta eat sometimes too, and I didn’t think you’d be able to stop me.”

Geoff knows he shouldn’t be offended, but he can’t help but ask, “Why not?”

“How many bottles of liquor do you have?”

“Enough.”

Trevor lifts his eyebrows. “Enough for what?”

“For you to stop asking me questions,” Geoff mutters. “You got light fingers, Trevor. Do you need a job?”

“A job,” Trevor repeats. “What were you in prison for?”

“Theft,” Geoff says. “And this time I’m not going to get caught.”

“Caught stealing what?”

“How would you like to be a few million dollars richer, Trevor?”

“Stealing _what_?”

“We’re gonna rob ourselves a casino.”

Trevor snorts. “What, you and me?”

“You, me, and the dozen other people I’ve got.” Geoff shrugs and shifts all of the grocery bags to one hand so he can grab his wallet and flip it open. Trevor doesn’t help him this time, just watches him struggle to pull out one of the matte grey cards inside. “Here, this a business card for one of my associates. You can call him if you’re interested.”

“What if I call the cops?”

“Oh, he’s above board, and I know how to hide.” And Jack would find this kid and skin him alive, but he doesn’t need to know that part.

Trevor reaches forward and picks up the business card. “Free? Like the casino guy?”

“Like the casino guy,” Geoff says. “We could use someone like you, Trevor. Call us if you need something to do.” And really, he’s sold all he can sell at this point and these grocery bags are getting fucking heavy, so he leaves it at that, turns on his heel, and goes back to the parking lot.

As soon as Geoff pulls up in Gavin’s driveway, Jack is out in front, hands on her hips. “You offered someone a _job_?” she demands as he gets out of the car.

Geoff grins. If the kid called already, he’s as good as theirs. “Do we need a pickpocket?”

“Where the fuck did you find a pickpocket in an Albertson’s?”

“Oh, he found me. Do we need him?”

“Is he good?”

“Almost got your credit card,” Geoff admits. “But look at it this way, he’s our first confirmed yes, isn’t he?”

“A pickpocket’ll make the job easier,” Gavin points out from the doorway of his house. “Come on, Geoff, groceries.”

Jack sighs. “I should’ve gone myself. That’d mean I don’t have to rework all of our plans.”

“But it’ll be easier,” Gavin repeats.

“It’ll be easier,” Jack agrees, and offers them both a sliver of a smile. “Good call, Geoff.”

“Hey, I’ve been doing this longer than you, I know what I’m doing.”

“Sure you do,” Jack says, only sounding a little patronizing. “Open the trunk, I’ll get the groceries and we can talk shop.”

#

“Jocelyn Andrews speaking,” Caleb says briskly as soon as they pick up the phone.

Geoff grins. “Hi, Mx. Andrews. I’m calling about that business offer we discussed a couple of weeks ago.”

There’s a pause. Geoff can practically feel Caleb’s regret through the phone. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, Jocelyn, if you’re interested, we have a job opportunity that’s opened up. Ms. Pattillo and I-” he shoots a wink at Jack, who rolls her eyes and ignores him- “have found what we believe to be a promising endeavor.”

“You don’t have to talk like that, nobody’s listening.”

“Bullshit, someone’s always listening,” Geoff says amiably, but he drops the act anyways. “We can get you dealing blackjack in the Paradise in two days.”

“You’re actually going after Funhaus?” Caleb says in disbelief. “What the hell do you have against Kovic?”

“Nothing that matters,” Geoff lies. “Funhaus is a target, and they’re a good one. We’ve got funding, we’ve got a team, and we could really use someone working in the casino.”

“This really isn’t much advance notice. I don’t know if I can get my affairs in order that fast.”

“We can send someone to help, probably.”

“I can send Steffie,” Gavin calls from where he’s perched on the couch playing Halo. “She’s a good bodyguard.”

Geoff tilts his cell phone away from his mouth. “When did you get a bodyguard?”

“When I decided I needed my body to be guarded.”

“Why haven’t I seen her?”

“She’s good at what she does.”

Geoff shrugs and brings the phone back to his mouth. “Gavin says you can borrow his bodyguard if you need one. She’ll probably help you get ready to come.”

Caleb sighs. “Are you taking no for an answer?”

“Only if you’re saying no,” Geoff admits. “But you’re not.”

“I can be there by tomorrow afternoon if you send up an extra pair of hands.”

“Like I said, we got that. We’ll send Steffie.” Geoff looks over at Gavin, who lifts a thumbs-up for a brief second before going back to Halo. Jack rolls her eyes and picks up Gavin’s phone, probably going to call Steffie. “And you’re sure you want to come?”

“Yeah, why not,” Caleb says. Geoff can hear the smile in their voice. “If Jack’s involved, it’ll probably work out. Tell her I said that. And good job actually calling her.”

“Thanks,” Geoff says. Like hell is he going to admit that he didn’t actually call her. “Tomorrow?”

“See you then,” Caleb says, and hangs up.

Geoff goes over to the couch and plops down next to Gavin. “That was the last call, right?”

“It was,” Jack says. “Still no word on a greaseman?”

“Matt says he might know someone,” Gavin offers. “He’s going to check up on it and get back to me, I’ll let you know as soon as I know.”

Jack nods. “That’s good. So we’ve got a team. Now we just have to turn all this-” she gestures at the mess of blueprints and notes on the coffee table- “into something cohesive.”

“Easy part’s over,” Gavin murmurs, as his team loses their match in Halo.

Geoff grins, razor-sharp. “Now’s the fun part.”


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re sure you can’t make it?”

“I’m sure,” Kdin says apologetically. “Going off the dates you gave me, I can be in town by the time you’re actually doing the heist, but the absolute earliest I can get there is Monday.”

“And there’s no way you can be here tonight?”

“None. Sorry, Jack.”

“No, you’re fine,” Jack says, even though it’s not, and it certainly doesn’t make her job any easier. “Finish up what you’re doing, okay? We don’t even need you here until Monday anyways. Get here as soon as you can so we can get you caught up.”

“Let me know if anything changes.”

“Will do,” she promises. She waits for the click of the phone hanging up before saying, as calmly as she can, “Son of a  _ bitch _ .”

Michael’s head pokes around a corner, eyebrows raised. “You okay there, Jack?”

“Life would be easier,” Jack says mournfully, “if the best day for this wasn’t next week.”

Michael shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s gonna be more fun this way.”

Jack doesn’t really want this heist to be fun so much as she wants it to be effective, but she supposes she admires his optimism. The thing is, Gavin is right that a UFC fight night is really the best day to hit the Paradise. They’re going to have more cash on hand than normal - she’s almost certain that they’ll have over a quarter of a million dollars in the vault - and it’s going to be chaos inside, which makes it the perfect time to sneak in and steal shit.

The problem is that fight nights don’t happen every week. There’ll be one in another two months, and it’s hard to keep plans a secret for two months. Of course, it’s also pretty fucking hard to plan an airtight heist in under two weeks, but she’s not going to complain. This’ll be the haul of a lifetime, if they can swing it.

Michael is still looking at Jack like he’s expecting an answer, so she forces a smile. “At least it’ll be fun,” she echoes, even though she’d really rather have a heist that works.

Michael goes back to whatever he was doing, and Jack bites back a sigh. She’d rather work with Kdin at the last minute than anyone else with more warning, but Kdin’s really not making it easy. Monday is the latest they can afford to get Kdin embedded in the casino, and they’re really pushing it down to the wire. Heist setup is always chaos; this is borderline bedlam.

The past few days have been nothing but phone calls and business. Sunday afternoon, as soon as the first round of phone calls were made, was spent with some Chinese takeout and a hell of a lot of plans. They had something rough before the sun was down and something final before midnight, which was a damn success in Jack’s book. Michael and Lindsay rolled into town on Monday morning and went straight to work, coordinating with Jack and digging up everything they could about the power grid in Vegas.

(“Our best bet is knocking it out,” Geoff said, tracing the power lines on the map with one finger. “Right? Just leave ‘em blind.”

“Leave ‘em blind,” Gavin repeated. “Michael’ll like that, he’s good at it.”)

Caleb and and Steffie were next, showing up with an alarming amount of suitcases on Monday afternoon. Steffie unpacked Caleb’s things in one of Gavin’s extra rooms and set herself up next door. Jack would never say it out loud, but it made her feel better to know that Caleb had someone watching out for them. Steffie even went to Caleb’s interview at the Paradise, waiting at a craps table with the thief that Geoff accidentally adopted. They were both there when Caleb finished the interview, even though Jack was pretty sure that Trevor didn’t need to go.

(“We could always use someone with sticky fingers,” Geoff argued. “We want him on our side.”

“Any one of us could pick some pockets if we needed to,” Jack said. She wasn’t opposed to having the kid on board - not that she could really afford to be, because apparently Gavin and Trevor worked it out to where Trevor would be staying in the villa - but it was a risk, pulling someone they didn’t know. He seemed decent, but a lot of people who’d crossed her had seemed decent. “Are you sure about him?”

“Steffie likes him,” Gavin put in. “I don’t think she’s ever been wrong.”)

Caleb had a job at the Paradise starting on Tuesday morning, and they also decided they liked Trevor. And, well, Jack’s sure that Steffie is a good judge of character, but she’ll take Caleb’s word over Steffie’s any day. It was easy to make actual room for Trevor in their plans, instead of just vague notions of where he could be.

Tuesday was almost entirely planning, and so was Wednesday. Jack slept maybe six hours total between the two days, ignoring the way everyone gave her strange looks when they saw her awake at odd hours. Gavin’s hacker appeared on their couch sometime near midnight on Thursday, carrying a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew and an incredibly expensive laptop. Jack hadn’t been sold on Matt, right up until he wandered up to look at her plans on the coffee table. “So where are the cameras?”

“Pink highlights on the blueprint,” Jack said distractedly, trying to spread out a vault schematic on the table.

“Are they all fixed to the ceiling?”

“Yeah, I have the specs somewhere so you can-”

“Oh, I know the camera models, I visited Oasis yesterday,” Matt said, almost dismissively. Jack looked up at him in surprise; he just shrugged. “Know your enemy, right? I can hack them in my sleep, as long as I can get into their main computer room at some point.”

“We can get you there,” Jack promised.

Matt nodded and plopped back down on the couch. “Oh, and Jeremy’s gonna be here in a few hours.”

“Jeremy?”

“Gymnast. I told Geoff, don’t worry, someone’s expecting him.”

(“Are we sure we can trust him?” Jack said, trying not to look too nervous and probably failing. Working with strangers was not the ideal situation. “Gav, I know you like Matt, but-”

“I like Jeremy too,” Gavin protested. “I’ve met him. I didn’t know he was a gymnast, but I like him. We can keep him, right, Geoff?”

Geoff looked vaguely guilty. “I might’ve already said yes.”

Jack sighed. “You need to stop hiring people without talking to me.”

“He’s going to be good!”

“You’d better hope he is.”)

By Friday night, Matt had his security camera access, Michael had the beginnings of a working replica of the Paradise vault, and Kdin had about half a dozen missed calls from Jack. Jack was pretty sure she had an ulcer, or that she was getting one. Gavin was calling in favor after favor and spending a gross amount of money to get them equipment, and she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Trevor.

Jeremy, at least, seemed like a reliable guy. He started helping Michael and Lindsay almost immediately after showing up, which was frankly one less thing for Jack to worry about. Mostly she had three concerns: Ryan, Kdin, and Geoff.

Gavin laughed when she told him that, during one of the breaks she was allowing herself. “Why not yourself?”

“Because I’m not about to fuck up my own plans,” she said grimly. Ryan had promised to be there by Saturday afternoon but hadn’t said anything since, Kdin hadn’t answered at all, and Geoff was busy trying to oversee everything at once. Including Jack.

And now here she is, on Saturday morning, with no idea if Kdin is going to be able to make it. Jack is pretty sure that Kdin should’ve been higher on that list of concerns. She hadn’t stopped to consider her being in the middle of a job, but that’s the most likely explanation. It’s also a bit of a fucking problem.

(“You haven’t heard back from her, so we can’t count on her. Can we do this heist without a grifter, if we have to?” Gavin said intently, leaning forward.

Jack frowned. “Not the way it is right now. We could probably rework things, if we had to, but the way we have it planned we need her here.”

“You’d better be right about her, Jack,” Geoff muttered. He didn’t react when she gave him the dirtiest look she could manage.)

Jack goes back to the schematics. This plan is close to foolproof, barring any weird shit happening, and this is the worst kind of weird shit. She doesn’t know any other disguise artist she trusts nearly as much as Kdin, except maybe Meg. Maybe Jack could call Meg. But then, Meg and Gavin have that rule about not mixing work and their personal lives, and Jack thinks she could really use a drink.

“I could really use a drink,” Jack says absently.

Matt glances at her from where he’s still camped on the couch. “You want some Mountain Dew? I have extra.”

“You’re going to die before you’re thirty.”

“I can get you a drink,” Jeremy offers, perched on the arm of the couch. “What do you want?’

Jack shakes her head. “No, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Suit yourself, boss lady,” Jeremy says cheerfully, and jumps off the couch. “I’m gonna go see if Michael and Lindsay need anything.”

“If you run into Gavin or Geoff, send them my way.” She glances up in time to see Jeremy flash her a thumbs-up and disappear down the hall, where Michael had been working before. “Matt, you’re still in the security feeds, right?”

“Yes, I am, wanna see?” Matt twists his laptop around, and Jack looks up to see a truly impressive number of thumbnails, all from live camera feeds.

“Damn,” she says, for lack of something better to say. “And those are just in the Paradise?”

“Yep. I can get into Oasis and the Wilhelmina if we need to, but I figure, if we’re heisting here…” Matt shrugs. “We can see the whole thing. Parking lot, box office, Caleb dealing, Steffie watching Caleb deal, Trevor skulking around following Willems, all the fun stuff.”

“That’s really impressive,” Jack says honestly. She’s met some good hackers, she’s been in this business for a dozen years too long, but either Matt is very good at lying or he genuinely doesn’t realize just how good he is. She’s leaning towards the latter. She smiles at him, and then she finishes processing the end of Matt’s sentence, and her smile immediately drops into a frown. “Wait, did you say that Trevor is following Willems?”

“Uh, yeah.” Matt looks confused. “Geoff assigned him to, remember? Said it was the best way to figure out his habits.”

“Geoff did  _ what _ ?”

“What did Geoff do?” Geoff’s voice says. Jack turns to him, and he must immediately sense that now is not the time to fuck around, because his eyes go wide. “Oh, shit, what did I do?”

“You assigned Trevor to follow around Willems?”

Geoff brightens back up instantly. “Oh, yeah, see, we were talking about how we needed to be able to get the vault codes, and I figured, Willems keeps them on him, right? So what better way to get them than to keep someone on Willems?”

Jack had been thinking about the codes too. She had a dozen plans and contingencies, ranging from hacking to surveilling, and she’d been pretty damn sure that assigning someone to follow Willems was out of the question. It wasn’t worth risking having someone in the plan be recognizable, having someone be caught because Willems happened to remember them following him. Geoff had agreed when she brought it up with him. Apparently not completely.

Jack loves Geoff. She’s known him for a long time. He’s easily her best friend in the world. She tries to remember that as she stares at him. He’s a piece of shit, he’s awful on his best days and intolerable on his worst, and he went behind her back. But she’s pretty sure she’d still miss him if she killed him over this.

“We talked about this,” Jack says, wanting to cringe at how strained her own voice is. “We decided not to put anyone on him, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was before we knew Treyco could handle it.”

“We don’t know that he can handle it, you’re just guessing.”

Geoff shrugs. “He’s a smart kid. Putting him in there is going to give everyone else more wiggle room, right? We could use all the wiggle room we can get.”

The worst part is that he’s right. This is going to make some things a little easier. It’s going to require juggling, though, and Jack has never been good at juggling.

“Talk to me before you do things,” Jack says at last. “Please. For the love of god.”

Geoff at least looks a little contrite. “Is everything still gonna work?”

Jack thinks about it. “Is he in disguise?”

“Nope,” Matt says, peering at his laptop screen. “Hasn’t been all week. He’s dressed sort of touristy, though.”

“What does touristy mean?”

“Hawaiian shirts, mostly.”

“Has he been stealing my shirts?”

“Your shirts wouldn’t fit him,” Geoff points out.

Jack’s shirts have been going missing, and ill-fitting clothes are a part of the tourist look as far as she’s concerned, but she’s not about to pick a fight over that. “He won’t be doing anything out in the open during the heist, should he? Only in situations where we can’t see his face?”

“I thought this through, you know,” Geoff says. “We’re not risking anything we can’t lose.”

“It’s not your job to calculate risks,” Jack snaps before she can think better of it. It’s hers. Geoff is the idea guy, and she’s the one who figures out the exit plans. The last time she didn’t have enough exit plans in place, it ended with Geoff in prison for four years. She’s not letting anyone, especially not a kid with his whole life in front of him, get caught for this shit.

Geoff bristles slightly. “Did you just want to fight with me because you’re stressed, or did you have an actual question?”

Jack relents, because there’s no way she’s going to admit that she’s stressed as all fuck. “Do you know when Ryan’s getting here?”

“He said within the hour.”

“The motion sensors in the driveway just went off,” Matt offers. “Could it be him?”

Jack glances at Geoff. “Could it?”

“We could go find out,” Geoff says. “I’ll go find Gavin, he’ll want to be there.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before going off towards the back of the house.

“He’s lucky he’s good at what he does,” Jack mutters, and heads to the front door. Sure enough Ryan is parking an SUV in the driveway, next to Caleb’s hatchback, and she’s grinning before she can help it. Ryan’s been mostly overseas lately, and it’s been some time since she had the chance to see him.

Ryan jumps out of the car with the engine practically still running. “You’re still wearing those horrible shirts?”

“How else are you going to find me in a crowd?” Jack answers, starting towards him. He meets her in the middle of the driveway and folds her into his arms carefully, and she can feel his smile in the way he squeezes her. “Welcome back stateside.”

“How do you know I haven’t been stateside?”

“Because normally my calls at least connect to voicemail when you are.”

Ryan laughs. “Been calling me a lot?”

“Only for the job.”

“Sure you have.”

“Ryan!” someone exclaims from behind Jack. Ryan lets Jack go, and she sidesteps just in time as Gavin bodily flings himself at Ryan.

Ryan stumbles a few steps back, but he’s smiling. “I was here two months ago for coffee.”

“That was two months ago!” Gavin protests. “It’s been two whole months!”

“Two months isn’t that long. Oh, by the way, Meg asked me to say hi. She’s in Istanbul right now, but she sends her love.”

Gavin frowns. “Istanbul? Really? Wouldn’t have thought she’d like the weather there.”

Ryan scoffs and starts the process of peeling Gavin off of him. “What, because a desert is so much better?”

“At least it’s in the states,” Gavin scoffs. “Where she’s from.”

Ryan rolls his eyes fondly before locking his gaze over Jack’s shoulder. She doesn’t even need to turn to know exactly who he’s looking at. “Hi again.”

“Hi,” Geoff says, sounding stupidly soft the way he always does when Ryan is involved. Jack is pretty sure he doesn’t even realize how much of a sap he turns into when Ryan is there. Her eyes flick over to Gavin, who’s already looking at her. He makes a face, and Jack can’t help but smile back. It’s been this way for years, and she’s glad it’s still this way now.

“Welcome to the real world,” Ryan says, taking a couple of steps towards Geoff.

Jack turns in time to see Geoff shrug. “Most people wouldn’t say that stealing is the real world.”

“Only world that matters.” Ryan grins. “You guys got some cars for me?”

“Uh.” Geoff looks at Jack, almost panicked. “Jack?”

Jack wants to roll her eyes. She knows Geoff is a little rusty, but really, he should know this part of the goddamn plan. “Yeah, we have some cars. Steffie and Jeremy strong-armed some out of a local dealer-”

“With my money,” Gavin adds, somewhere between proud and petulant.

“-and Matt has a list of all the cars and tech specs. Mostly vans. We can take you out to the garage tomorrow to modify them however you need to.”

Ryan nods. “Why not today?”

Jack opens her mouth to answer, but Gavin cuts her off. “Today is the plan day.”

“Plan day?”

“Everyone’s going to hear the plan. Except one of us.”

“She’s abroad,” Jack explains quickly. “We’re still going to get all the schematics and stuff to her, she’ll be here by the start of the week.”

Ryan raises his eyebrows. “That late?”

“We’re working with what we can.”

“Jack swears by her,” Geoff says, trying to sound long-suffering. “She’s normally right about these things, so I guess I’ll take her word for it.”

“Plan discussion is going to be at eight tonight, as soon as Caleb’s back from the casino,” Jack says. “Go in, say hi, meet everyone. Give Michael and Lindsay a hand with the vault.”

“Vault?”

“We’re building a replica of the one in the Paradise so we can practice.”

“This seems like it’s pretty intense,” Ryan says cautiously. “That’s a lot of dedication.”

“We’re not getting a second chance on this,” Jack says. “Anything we can do to minimize the risk, we’re going to do.”

“And everything else is foolproof?”

Jack almost laughs. “There’s no such thing as a foolproof plan,” she says, trying not to think of Van Gogh and being four years younger and more certain. In the corner of her eye, Geoff fidgets uncomfortably, and she forces herself to meet Ryan’s eyes with as much confidence as she can. “But we’re getting as close as we can.”

#

The Van Gogh plan was a clusterfuck from the beginning. All of them knew it at the time, and it’s even more clear looking back at it. It’d been four thieves, too old to be kids anymore but too young to be anything but reckless, trying an impossible mission. They’d all done art heists before, and Jack thought that between Bruce’s plan and her contingencies there wasn’t anything that could go wrong.

She’s still not sure exactly what happened. One minute Geoff and Adam had the paintings and the next the cops were on their asses, and then Adam showed up out of breath with two of the three paintings and no cops tailing him.

“Where’s Geoff,” Jack had said, trying not to sound as fragile as she felt.

“He should be here,” Adam said, and behind her Bruce started swearing with more color than she’d ever heard, and that’s the last thing she remembers for a few hours.

Adam told her later that they split the paintings and ran in opposite directions, that he did almost a full circuit of the museum to get back and Geoff had a shortcut, that he figured more of the cops would be after him but instead almost none were, that he was sorry. They tried to give her Geoff’s cut of the profit when they sold the paintings, but she just took her cash and asked them to lose her number.

It wasn’t anything they did, she figured, staring at the stack of cash in front of her. It wasn’t their fault that shit hit the fan, probably. That didn’t mean she’d ever be able to look at them again.

She hasn’t heard from them in the last four years. She never told Geoff that, although he probably knew. He has a way of knowing these things. She thinks about them sometimes. She doesn’t even know where the paintings ended up. She doesn’t fucking care. She was ready to burn them as soon as Adam came back with them and without Geoff.

Jack doesn’t like Van Gogh so much, anymore.

#

Geoff claps his hands together. “Thank you all for coming here today. I know some of you came from other jobs, other states-”

“Other countries,” Ryan mutters.

Geoff gestures in his direction. “All corners of the world, that’s for sure. And I appreciate you making that trip.  _ We _ appreciate it,” he adds hastily, glancing at Jack. “We also appreciate you, Kdin, even if you’re not here and you’re going to be watching this when Matt sends it to you.”

Matt lifts a thumbs-up in front of his webcam. “Got your back, man.”

“At this point, all of you are pretty firmly committed this. I don’t think any of you want to leave, but if you do, this is your last chance.” Geoff looks around the room seriously, locking eyes with everyone there, including Jack and Gavin standing at the front with him. “You’ve come all this way. If you don’t want to rob three casinos one week from today, I understand. It’s a ridiculous, and there’ll be no hard feelings. But as soon as we go over the plan, you’re in for the heist.”

“Or we’re in a body bag,” Michael snorts.

Jack looks around the room. Matt is in his usual spot on the couch with Jeremy perched next to him; Michael and Lindsay are curled up together on his other side. Ryan is standing behind them, leaning on the back of the couch. Trevor is next to him, looking oddly intent. Caleb is off in a corner, with Steffie at their shoulder. She even glances at the webcam, just so she can make virtual eye contact with Kdin. She’s not much for betting, but she’d bet on this group.

“Nobody?” Gavin says, looking pleased, if not surprised. “Great. Welcome to the biggest heist of your lives.”

That’s Jack’s cue, and she turns on the massive plasma TV behind them. “This is the Paradise hotel, formerly the Bellagio. You may also know its sister, the Oasis, formerly called the Mirage. These were owned by MGM up until Funhaus Entertainment bought them for a metric shitton of money. Funhaus also owns the Wilhelmina-” she clicks the remote in her hand, and the picture changes to a smaller casino- “an off-the-Strip place meant more for locals. They’re also building one pretty close to Gav’s casino.”

“I’m not a fan,” Gavin announces.

“All three of the Funhaus casinos - by the way, Funhaus is owned by this guy.” Jack clicks again, and the picture changes to Willems and his wife at the groundbreaking for the newest casino. “This is Mr. James Willems, a rich kid who married into the mafia. His wife Elyse manages the casino floor in the Paradise, and they’re both damn smart. And efficient, because all three of their casinos send their money here.”

Jack clicks the remote, and the vault schematics pop up.

“Oh,  _ fuck, _ ” Ryan says.

She snorts. “Yeah, what he said. This vault is serious business. The Paradise is where they keep all the money, and armored trucks bring everything from the Wilhelmina and Oasis three times a day. And once they’re in, the in-house security is.” She hesitates. “Well.”

“Ridiculous,” Trevor offers.

“Borderline impossible to break into,” Matt says.

“Not quite,” Jack says. “They put the cash in carts and take it through the cages-”

“Which are damn hard to sneak into,” Gavin puts in quickly.

“-through these steel doors, which require a six-digit code that’s changed every twelve hours-”

“-that we can’t access-”

“-into an elevator, which the guards activate with a fingerprint, and vocal authorization from the vault and from the cages-”

“-which we can’t fake.”

Everyone looks vaguely queasy, Jack notices, with a grim sort of satisfaction. Good. They should know what they’re getting into. “And the elevator shaft is rigged with motion sensors, so we can’t bypass the elevator at all without locking down the shaft and trapping us.”

“It gets easier after the elevator,” Geoff says. “Just three armed guards in front of a fucking ridiculous vault door. And before anyone says it, tunneling isn’t an option. Willems has vibration sensors that’ll notice anything out of the ordinary. That and a fuckton of security cameras.”

“So it’s going to be tricky,” Jack finishes. “But not impossible. We have plans.”

There’s a long pause as everyone thinks about it. At last Lindsay lifts a hand. “So, not to be that guy, but I’m pretty sure we all want to know what we’re getting paid for this.”

Geoff grins. “Do you guys know why we’re putting this shit together so fast?”

“Because you make bad choices,” Jeremy says instantly.

Geoff glowers at him. “No.”

“Well, yes,” Jack amends, “but that’s more a side-effect than a motivator. Next Thursday is a UFC night, and that’s what the Paradise is known for. Which means they’ll be busy.”

“And the Nevada Gaming Commission requires a casino to have enough cash to cover every chip on the floor,” Gavin says happily. “Between the Wil, the Oasis, and the Paradise on a fight night? We’re looking at a quarter mil. Easy.”

“So split that between all eleven-” Geoff glances at Steffie in the corner with Caleb. “Okay, all twelve of us. We’re walking away with twenty million dollars apiece.”

“Jesus fuck,” Trevor breathes. Jack wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the most money he’s even heard of in one place. It definitely is for her.

“Just one thing,” Ryan says, and waits for Geoff to look over at him. “Let’s say all that impossible shit you mentioned breezes by, we’re fine, we get the money, hooray! We’re still a couple hundred feet underground, beneath a casino, in the middle of the desert. Are we supposed to just walk out?”

“Yeah,” Geoff says. “We are.”

Ryan grins. It doesn’t look particularly kind. “Great.”

#

Jack goes to sleep immediately after the plan meeting. She doesn’t set an alarm, and she gets thirteen straight hours of sleep. It’s fucking glorious.

As soon as she’s awake, she goes to Matt. “You still got that Mountain Dew?”

“And some Red Bull for good measure,” he says. “We’re in it for the long haul, huh?”

Jack grabs a pint glass and wonders how many times she can refill it until it’s too disgusting to drink from. “Yeah, we are. You ready?”

“Course not,” Matt says, and they get to work.

#

Geoff had said, and Jack agreed, that with as little time as they had, they needed to get as much of an early start as possible. Everyone who’d showed up got a patented Geoff speech about how they could walk away later, but if they weren’t completely sure it’d be best to go now. Nobody had walked. That was when Jack knew that they had the best team possible.

The vault replica had been their first project, and Gavin had ordered materials as soon as they were done with all the phone calls and their first planning meeting, with just the three of them. Michael and Lindsay got to work, and Jack’s grateful for that, because that means practice runs can start as early as tonight. It also helps that Matt has eyes in the casino already, and that Caleb and Steffie know the lay of the land.

“I can quiz people,” Steffie offers, sometime near hour seven of intensive planning. Jack stares at her and forces herself to blink, just so she doesn’t look like a complete zombie. “On the layout of the casino, I mean. They’re going to need to know how to get out.”

“Wha?” Jack says, as eloquently as she can.

Steffie must understand, because her patience doesn’t waver. “Everyone’s going to be in there at some point. They need to know where every door leads. I’ve been figuring it out.”

“Is that what you were doing?” Matt says, eyes still completely glued to his screen. “I was wondering about that. I kept having to cut and splice feeds so you wouldn’t get caught.”

“Really?”

“He pays more attention than I do,” Jack admits. “Yeah, make sure everyone knows how to get through the casino. They’re going to need it.”

“And Caleb has some notes about all the other dealers,” Steffie adds. “They said they can give them to you at the end of the night.”

Jack could cry, right here, right now. God, she missed working with people who actually know what they’re fucking doing. “Tell them that’d be great, thanks.”

“Take a break at some point, Jack,” Steffie says quietly. “Even if you just go check on the replica or something. Get up. Walk around.”

“I will,” Jack lies, and goes back to planning. Her job is simple: at any given minute, she has to know where everyone will be. They’re all going to be following her instructions, as double-checked by Gavin and triple-checked by Geoff, and checked one more time by her for good measure. She’s going to keep these people safe, come hell or high water.

Half a dozen hours later, Michael wanders in and says “What am I blowing up?”

“Everything,” Jack answers, and gestures at some of her notes vaguely. “Those are yours.”

“All of them?”

“Some of them. You’re in charge of blowing the power.”

“For the casino?”

“For part of the strip.” Jack finally looks up and picks up the right stack of paper, which Michael grabs immediately. “Some of those might be Lindsay’s. She’s rigging shit to blow up, you’re rigging shit to blow a fuse.”

Michael starts flipping through the papers. “So we’ve got the Vegas power grid, what I need to blow up, what she needs to have ready, all that?”

“And more.”

“How long have you been going?”

“Thirteen hours and seventeen minutes,” Matt answers without looking up. “Willems just left the floor, Trevor’s going to be on his way home soon.”

“Is Caleb?”

Michael gives her a strange look. “Caleb got back two hours ago.”

Jack looks around in surprise. There’s a notebook next to her filled with Caleb’s careful, cramped handwriting, all about another dealer. It’s already open. She doesn’t remember getting it, but she recognizes it. “Huh,” she mutters.

“Are you okay, Jack?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She even shakes her head to clear it. The first day is always the hardest. “Matt, you got more caffeine?”

Matt reaches over the side of the couch that’s farther from Jack and produces a new two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew. Jack wordlessly takes it from him, opens the cap, and takes a long drink. She’s dimly aware of Michael backing out of the room, but she ignores it until the bottle is a quarter gone, and she can look at Matt. “You ready for the all-nighter?”

“Sure,” Matt says. She’s pretty sure he’s not ready, but she’s probably not either. “What’s left?”

“Who’s done?”

“Michael and Lindsay have their notes now.”

“Ryan and Geoff were working on the vans,” Jack says, ticking them off on her fingers. “You know what you’re doing, I know what I’m doing. We need to get a dossier ready for Kdin, did she send you photos of her disguise?”

“She did. Her flight lands in-” Matt looks at a clock. “Fourteen hours.”

“Okay, that’s enough time to scrape something together. Gav’s ready, Jeremy’s ready, Caleb and Steffie are ready. Trevor?”

“On his way back,” Matt reminds her.

“Right,” Jack mutters, and takes another swig of Mountain Dew. “Let’s make Kdin an identity.”

It turns out that this is one of Matt’s specialties, or at least that he’s fucking good at it. He makes the identity quickly and easily, incorporating Kdin’s notes and Jack’s advice together smoothly. They finish at two in the morning with half a dozen forms of identification, a college diploma, and two dummy bank accounts.

“You’re sure Geoff won’t mind that we’re using his money?” Matt says, looking at the balances in the accounts.

“He doesn’t get to mind,” Jack mutters. “What else haven’t we done? Have we ordered everything?”

“You’ll order it in the morning,” Geoff says from behind her. Jack turns to look at him, pajama-clad and soft around the edges, and she wants to argue, but he’s already sinking down to kneel next to her on the floor. “Both of you, come on.”

“We’re not done,” Jack says. “We have more.”

“There’s gonna be more right up until we’re done,” Geoff reminds her. “Kdin’s getting in tomorrow, and you need to be in decent shape to see her.”

“She’s seen me in worse shape than this.”

“Then she’ll be pleasantly surprised. Matt, go to sleep.”

“Done,” Matt answers. He closes his laptop, sets it down on the floor, and immediately falls over on the couch.

Jack gives him a long bemused look. “Oh, to be young again,” she mutters, and lets Geoff take her by the elbow. “Geoff?”

“Jack.”

“Why’re we doing this?”

“Willems has some Van Goghs,” Geoff says. Jack doesn’t buy that any more now than she did the first time, and he must be able to tell, because he sighs. “Because I just lost four years of my life sitting in jail, and Funhaus represents everything I fucking hate about casinos. Why’re you doing this, is the better question?”

It’s two in the morning, Jack thinks. She’s tired. She hasn’t moved in seventeen hours, and that’s not the longest planning binge she’s been on, but it’s the longest she’s done in a while. “Because I missed you,” she says at last. “And because I’m bored.”

Geoff laughs quietly as he steers her up the stairs to her room. “Better answer than mine.”

“You have to give me a real answer sometime, you know.”

“I will,” Geoff promises. It sounds like a lie. “I’ll get you up at ten, okay? You’ll have time to get ready before Kdin gets here.”

“Stay,” Jack says, before she can think about it.

Geoff sighs. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure, Jack.” He waits for her to change into something worth sleeping in, and he stays. She’s never been more grateful for that.

#

Kdin looks more put together than Jack has ever seen her, breezing into Gavin’s kitchen thirty minutes after her plane lands. “This sounds like a hell of a heist, you know.”

Jack immediately pulls her into a hug, brief but warm. “Wouldn’t want to do it without you.”

Kdin laughs. “Good answer. Casinos, huh? Didn’t think you were the type.”

“I’m not.” Jack gestures at Geoff, leaning against the kitchen counter. “This is my partner, Geoff Ramsey.”

“Business partner, that is,” Geoff says.

Jack rolls her eyes. “My business partner who recently got out of prison.”

Kdin raises her eyebrows, but she shakes Geoff’s hand all the same. “What time am I checking in at the hotel?”

“As soon as you’re ready. Gavin ordered some dresses for you with the measurements you gave us, so once you’re in one of those, we’ve got a limo and a couple of bodyguards.”

“Actual bodyguards?”

“No.” Jack pauses. “But I mean, they’d probably kill people if they had to, so actually yes.”

“Great. What’s my name?”

Jack picks up Kdin’s dossier from the counter. “You, Ms. Edwyna Harving, have a lot of money and you don’t tell people where you got it. You’re in town to get away from your husband-”

“I don’t even know my husband, and I already hate him,” Kdin says. She takes the dossier and flips it open. “Who’s planted in the casino?”

“We’ve got a dealer and two sets of eyes. There are little biographies about all of them in the back. You can read in the limo.”

“Were the numbers in that video right?”

“What, getting twenty million apiece? Absolutely.”

Kdin arches an eyebrow, still reading. “So that means I’m getting a suite, right?”

“You get the suite. Some of us are going to set up shop in there.”

“Who’s some of us?”

“Our computer guy, your pyrotechnic bodyguards.” Jack pauses. “Maybe me and Geoff. It depends.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a sure answer,” Kdin says, looking up at Jack. There’s a wry twist to her lips. “I thought you were an overplanner.”

“She is,” Geoff says, because he’s a piece of shit.

Kdin ignores him. “I’ll get changed, and we’ll get set up. Have you been in the Paradiso?”

Jack shakes her head. “Not since we cased it last week. I won a couple hundred bucks at slots.”

“Of course you did.”

“I’m heading over later tonight to check in with Trevor.”

“Is he the dealer or the eyes?”

“Eyes on Willems.”

“You have quite the collection of people here, Jack.” Kdin flips the folder closed. “This is going to be fun.”

“It’s already fun,” Jack admits, surprised by how honest she sounds. She makes a point of ignoring the way Geoff grins at that.

#

Trevor is waiting for Jack outside a restaurant in the Paradise. He hands her a Starbucks cup as soon as she’s by his side. “Compliments of Mrs. Harving.”

Jack raises her eyebrows and takes a sip. It’s chai, which isn’t normally what she gets, but she’s not going to say no to free drinks. “How exactly did Mrs. Harving pay for this?”

“Michael gave me a couple bucks, and I’m assuming Kdin was responsible somehow.”

Jack shakes her head. “Alright. Tell me about Willems.”

She still doesn’t think it was a good idea sticking Trevor in the casino, or at least an idea that they should’ve fleshed out. Trevor’s smart enough that he’s wearing sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt that isn’t actually Jack’s, even if it looks like it could be. He looks like a tourist, and people probably gloss over him when they look around the room. But it’s still a risk. They should’ve dyed his hair.

Trevor takes a deep breath. “He’s an alarming guy, that’s for sure.”

“Alarming how?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s an android.”

Jack snorts despite herself. “What could possibly make you say that?”

“He follows a better routine than anyone I’ve ever seen. He gets here at two o’clock sharp every day, no matter what the traffic in town is like. He goes upstairs to the offices, works for five hours straight, and goes to the casino floor at seven.”

“He does sound like a robot.”

“Not just a robot,” Trevor says, sounding somewhere between awed and horrified. “He always has the same car and the same driver, but he greets all the valets and dealers by name.”

Jack frowns. “Including Caleb?”

“Calls them Mx. Andrews and everything.”

Jack files that away for later. Hopefully it won’t be a problem if Willems knows Caleb’s name and face, but it’s good to know just in case. “What does he do for work?”

“I have no idea,” Trevor admits. “I’ve only gotten up to the offices once this week, and that was hard enough to manage. I think it’s just typical casino business, whatever that is.”

“And he’s there for five hours,” Jack murmurs. If Willems is this dedicated then he probably gets a lot done in five hours. God knows she can. “Then what?”

“Comes down to the casino and talks to his casino floor manager.”

“His casino floor manager as in his wife?”

“You wouldn’t know it listening to them. They just talk business. She knows everything that goes on, which means he does too, and he handles every issue himself.”

“How long do they talk?”

“Three minutes, and then he’s off to the high-rollers room.” Trevor pulls out his phone, and Jack checks her watch. It’s 7:29. “Which is where he is right now, in case you couldn’t guess.”

“I can tell time, yes,” Jack says, as patiently as possible.

Trevor grins. “What do you know, you’ll probably plan a great heist after all.”

Jack rolls her eyes. “So he goes to the high rollers and, what, schmoozes?”

“Schmoozes, schmaltzes, all those other words that start with schmuh.”

“That’s not what schmaltzing is.”

“And that’s why I steal things instead of taking English classes. Willems is out of the room by seven-thirty, where an assistant hands him a portfolio. Inside it is the day’s take from the slots and the tables, and all the security codes for the vaults.” Trevor points off towards the heart of the casino. “Look that direction in fifteen seconds and he’ll be coming around the corner.”

“You seem awfully confident in that,” Jack says, even as she mentally starts counting to fifteen.

“It’s been the same way every day I’ve been here, including weekends.”

Jack glances at the corner just in time to see Willems round it. He’s taller than she expected, and he’s holding a black portfolio in one hand. But his eyes are bright and friendly, and she watches him greet the host in front of the restaurant as he goes in. She can’t be sure from this distance, but she’s pretty sure it’s by name.

“Goddamn,” she says, for lack of anything else to say.

“Pretty much,” Trevor admits. “You guys sure know how to pick ‘em. That folder is the only way of getting those codes, he’s smart, his wife’s just as much of a maniac as him, and they’re not kind to people who they catch cheating.”

Jack has heard that, while she was researching them. She’s not about to go counting cards anywhere in Vegas, because word about that spreads like lightning, but the last person caught cheating in a Willems casino didn’t just lose his reputation. He lost his house, his marriage, and in a seemingly unrelated incident both of his siblings lost their jobs within a month. Security doesn’t kneecap cheaters. Willems just wrecks their lives.

“We’ve got our work cut out for us,” Jack admits, taking a long drink of chai.

“Here’s his wife,” Trevor says, without even looking. When Jack glances over she sees Elyse, smartly dressed and with a smile as friendly as her husband’s. She pauses at the host stand, talking with the person behind it.

Jack frowns. That looks like an actual conversation, not just small talk. “They really know everyone who works for them?”

Trevor shrugs. “What can I say? Being ruthless doesn’t mean they can’t be friendly. They seem like a couple of stand-up people who’ll gut anyone who crosses them.”

Jack watches Elyse go into the restaurant. She can see, through a frosted window, James stand up from his table and kiss Elyse. “Stand-up, huh?”

“Nice. But they’ll kill you. The last two guys are coming in sixty seconds.”

Jack frowns. “Last two guys?”

“Yeah, a couple of their internal guys have dinner with them. One of them is the assistant curator for the gallery, and the other one does risk analysis or something.”

“Or something?”

“Like I said, I only made it into the office once. I couldn’t even catch their full names.” Trevor frowns. “One of them’s Greene, I know that for sure.”

Jack’s blood freezes. “Greene,” she repeats. It’s a common last name, it’s probably a coincidence, it’s not a big deal. “And he’s the risk analysis or something.”

“Yeah. I never got the gallery guy’s name, but maybe we can use facial recognition or something. Here they come.”

Jack looks at the corner. It’s every worst fear she had come true.

Adam, dressed nicer than she’s ever seen him before, jostles Bruce with an elbow. Bruce laughs at him and says something that makes Adam grin back at him. Both of them greet the host by name, and they go into the restaurant. Elyse gets up and hugs Bruce as she tugs him into a chair next to her, and James puts his arms around Adam’s shoulders when he sits down.

“I can’t figure out why it’s those two,” Trevor says, and Jack forces herself to listen. “It seems like a weird combination, out of everyone they could choose to spend their time with. The only explanation is that they’re personal friends or something, but I don’t know if that could be it. I can’t even figure out how all of them know each other. Are you okay?”

Jack swallows. She knows that she must look like she’s been struck by lightning, but that’s kind of how it feels right now. She might not have seen Adam or Bruce in four years, but they still look the same, and she’s grateful that they didn’t recognize her. Fuck, she’s grateful that Trevor thought to position them somewhere that Willems and company can’t properly see their faces, because otherwise this whole heist would be fucked.

Everything makes sense now, in a kind of horrible, sharp way. All she can think is the way Geoff kept saying that Willems owns a couple of Van Goghs. It wasn’t about the paintings.

_ He knew, _ she thinks, and the ice in her blood catches on fire. Geoff knew.

“Jack,” Trevor says, and she looks at him, forcing her face back into something neutral and businesslike. He doesn’t look like he’s buying it. “Are you okay?”

“We don’t need facial recognition,” Jack says, and clears her throat. “I know them. We need to get back to Gavin’s place.”

“So you can look them up?”

“So I can commit a murder,” she says grimly, and pulls her car keys out of her pocket.

#

When Jack gets back to the villa, everyone has fallen into a steady rhythm of work. Lindsay is set up at a workshop table with Gavin hanging over her shoulder, Michael is helping Ryan do something with a car engine, Matt is adjusting cameras, and Geoff is with Jeremy in the replica vault.

Jack takes a deep breath. She had time to stew on the drive over, but she also had time to cool down, and she’s really not sure which one she did. Either way, she doesn’t have the chance to self-assess and find out, because Geoff looks up at her as soon as he hears her footsteps.

“Hi, Jack,” Jeremy says brightly. “Oh, hey, I have a question about these cash carts, since I have to fit in one-”

“In a minute,” Jack says, hoping she doesn’t sound too unkind. “Geoff, we need to talk.”

“I have never once had a good conversation that started with those words,” Geoff says musingly, but he goes with her anyways.

Gavin is the richest person Jack knows, and she knows that because most people in Las Vegas can’t afford to have basements put in. Gavin’s basement is, of course, absolutely sprawling, and through a feat of architecture Jack doesn’t quite understand, it starts out underground and ends on ground level. Geoff follows her as she weaves around everyone else and leads him outside. There are no stars in the Vegas sky, but they’re far enough from the Strip that she can see them if she squints.

“It’s nice out,” Geoff says, giving Jack a curious look. “How’s Trevor’s mission going?”

“Good,” Jack says slowly. There’s a chance that she’s wrong, that he doesn’t know about Bruce and Adam after all, and she’s willing to give Geoff the benefit of the doubt. “I think we know everything we need to know.”

“Okay,” Geoff says. “Then what’s wrong?”

She sighs. “James and Elyse Willems have dinner with Adam and Bruce every night.”

And, because nothing ever goes as easily as Jack wants it to, Geoff doesn’t look surprised. Instead he sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “You found out.”

“You knew.”

“I was afraid you’d find out.”

“Tell me it’s not about them.”

Geoff looks at her, clearly surprised. “What?”

“Tell me it’s not about them or I’m fucking leaving.”

“Why don’t you want to hit them where it hurts?”

“Why do you?”

“Why do I?” Geoff laughs, but it’s an ugly sound. “They fucking sold us out, Jack! They fucked up the Van Gogh heist, and they got me arrested because of it. They were probably going for you, too.”

“Bullshit,” Jack says instantly. There was no way they were involved with the cops, not when Adam was at just as much risk as Geoff. Not when she’d seen how  _ sorry _ Bruce’s eyes were when he gave her the cash afterwards.

“What the fuck else could it have been?”

“Bad luck? Someone else tipping the cops off?”

“Did you tell anyone about the heist?”

Jack wishes she weren’t so offended by that implication. “Of course not.”

“Neither did I.” Geoff looks grim. He’s had four years, Jack realizes, to come to this conclusion. “If anyone fucked this up, it wasn’t you, and it wasn’t me. It was them.”

“So you’re robbing their friend? How did you even know they worked with Willems?”

“I have my ways,” Geoff says. He probably think he sounds defensive or secretive. Jack thinks he just sounds like a fucking asshole.

“So this is, what, a revenge job?” Jack demands. “Geoff, what was our first fucking rule when we got into this?”

“Leave emotion at the door,” Geoff says instantly. “But I can’t. Not this time.”

“Attachment makes you stupid.”

“And revenge probably makes me a total fucking idiot, but we planned this heist anyways.”

Jack shakes her head. “So am I just supposed to accept the fact that you’ve been hiding the truth from me this whole time? I don’t know if I can do that.”

Geoff sighs. “Then don’t.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I’m not asking you to forgive me, I’m just asking you to rob a casino with me.”

“That’s a tall order from someone who’s keeping secrets.” And she remembers when there were no secrets at all between them, when what was Jack’s was Geoff’s. She remembers a time where she wouldn’t have dreamed of withholding anything, and now here they are, wrapped up in secrets. She wonders if this is a side-effect of prison or if she just didn’t know him as well as she thought.

“I know,” Geoff says. He looks old, in the dark with nothing but a dim exterior light to yellow him out. “And I won’t ask you to do it again. I promise that this is everything out in the open right now. It started out being about fucking Funhaus over, but now…”

Jack frowns. “Now what?”

“Would it be bad if I said now I’m just doing it because it’s fun?”

“That’s why we started doing this to begin with.”

“Well, that and the money.”

“And this is going to get us a lot of money,” Jack says. And she remembers what Michael said a few days ago, about the heist being fun, and maybe that’s important, too. “Are you sure about this?”

Geoff nods. “I’ve been sure this whole time.”

“Okay. C’mere.” She steps forward and tugs him gently against her. Geoff lets her hug him, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You could’ve started with the revenge bit when you brought this up, and we could’ve talked about it.”

“I know,” Geoff says sadly. “You’re better than I am at this anyways. I’m not keeping any more secrets, okay? We’re on the same page.”

“The same page,” Jack echoes. She really fucking hopes she can believe him this time. “Let’s go back inside.”

Geoff nods and starts back in. “Oh, by the way, do you need me for anything tomorrow?”

“Not that I know, why?”

“I think I’m going to go to the casino tomorrow night, scope it out in person.”

“Sure. But be smart about it.”

“When have I not been smart?”

Jack gives him a look, and he wisely moves on. “So if you don’t need me for planning-”

“I don’t, you’re good to go.”

Geoff looks relieved. “You are a gift to this world, Jack.”

Jack rolls her eyes. “I’m a gift to you, at least.”

Geoff either doesn’t hear her or ignores her, instead taking off to talk to Lindsay and Gavin. Jack sighs. She trusts that Geoff isn’t keeping anything from her right now, but the timing of this is all a little off. She’s not sure she likes the idea of Geoff alone in the casino.

“Hey, Jack,” someone says. She looks up to see Trevor walking towards her. “Did you tell Matt about the guys from the restaurant?”

“Not yet,” Jack says, and pauses. She has an idea. A really stupid, really important idea. “Actually, Treyco, can you do me a favor tomorrow?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Geoff’s going to be in the Paradise tomorrow. Keep an eye on him?”

Trevor frowns. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jack says quickly. “Totally fine. I just want to be sure.”

Thankfully, Trevor seems to accept that. “No problem.”

“And, uh. Don’t tell him I asked you.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, hoping this doesn’t really count as a secret. It’d be bad if she kept secrets after berating Geoff for keeping them. “Just let me know if anything weird happens.”

Trevor nods and wanders off. Jack takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and forces herself to go into work mode. There’s no time to worry about Geoff when there’s so much for her to worry about. Not when she’s responsible for ten other people in this heist.

#

Geoff doesn’t tow Jack off to bed that night. It’s four o’clock before she realizes she should be asleep, and that Matt nodded off a few hours ago instead of a few minutes. She goes to bed hoping that she made the right choices. It’s not so different from any other night, really.

#

At 7:32 PM, Jack gets a text from Trevor that says  _ Check 37. _

Jack frowns. There are a limited number of things that she can check, let alone numbered things that go up to 37, but she can hazard a guess. “Matt, what’s on camera 37?”

Matt gives her a curious look. “Why?”

“I’ll explain in a minute, just-” Jack goes around to stand at his shoulder, behind the couch, so she can see his screen. “Camera 37 in the casino? Please?”

Matt hits a few buttons and pulls up the camera. It’s a feed of the outside of Willems’s restaurant from yesterday; Trevor is sitting at a slot machine nearby.

“What the fuck,” Jack mutters, and texts Trevor  _ where’s Geoff? _

On the camera Trevor checks his phone and, without looking at the camera, yawns. He stretches his arms, and one elbow points directly at the restaurant.

“Can you zoom in?” Jack asks. Matt is zooming before she even finishes saying it, and he focuses in on a window. The glass is frosted, but she can make out the vague shapes of Bruce and Adam’s silhouettes. “Are there cameras inside the restaurant?”

“They are, but they’re hosted on a different security network. I could get into them, but it’d take a couple minutes.”

Jack shakes her head. “Not worth it. Is there any way to make the image clearer?”

“Uhhh.” Matt starts typing furiously, and the image sharpens. Not much, but enough to see the face sitting across from Bruce and Adam. “That’s all I can do. Is that Geoff?”

Jack pinches the bridge of her nose. “Yeah.”

“What’s he doing?”

“Being a fucking idiot.”

“Who’s in there with him?”

“A couple of… old coworkers. Can you see Willems?”

“If Trevor’s there, shouldn’t Willems be there too?”

“Not today,” Jack hedges. “Change in plans. Do you have a camera near the high-rollers room?”

Matt starts hitting buttons again. “I’ve got one outside. There’s Willems and his wife.”

Jack leans in, and sure enough, James and Elyse are walking briskly through the casino, away from the high-rollers. They’re headed towards the restaurant.

“Jack,” Matt says. “What’s going on?”

“Geoff is going to get caught, is what’s going on,” she mutters, even though she knows she’s wrong. She shouldn’t have told him where he could find Bruce and Adam, not before their revenge heist. She did this in the wrong order.

“Do you need me to activate the sprinklers for a distraction or something?”

“No, I don’t need- you can do that?”

Matt shrugs. “Probably?”

Jack makes a mental note of that. “Great. Switch back to 37 for me?”

Matt does, just as James and Elyse come into view on that one. As soon as they’re at the host stand all of their business demeanor melts away. They’re not Mr. and Mrs. Willems anymore, they’re the magnanimous business owners, and it’s a strange transformation to seen.

“Let me know if Geoff does anything weird before leaving,” Jack says, and goes back to the coffee table, to her own laptop full of plans.

“You know, you don’t have to sit on the floor.”

“Nah, it keeps me awake.”

“It’s not even eight o’clock yet.”

“It keeps me awake at one in the morning.”

“You’re going to get some actual sleep before the heist, right?”

Jack tries not to look too disbelieving as she looks at Matt. “Did someone ask you to check on me?”

“Nah,” Matt says. He looks mildly embarrassed, but he doesn’t back down. “Just, you know, if you’re out of commission, we’re all kind of fucked, and I could use twenty million bucks.”

Jack snorts. “I’ll be heist-ready, don’t worry. Is Geoff still in the restaurant?”

Matt glances back on his screen. “He’s leaving right now. Why are you watching Geoff?”

“Because he does dumb shit sometimes, and we need to know about it.” She sighs. “Whether he wants to or not.” She’d made Geoff promise that there’d be no more secrets, and maybe he’s going to come back and tell her what he was doing, but somehow she doubts it. She sure fucking hopes he knows what he’s doing, because the last thing they need is any more trouble.

“Is he okay?” Matt says, almost hesitantly.

“He’d better be,” Jack says. This heist is going with or without Geoff, but it’d be a hell of a lot easier with him.

Still, she thinks, looking back at her laptop, it’d be better to have some contingency plans. Just in case.


	3. Chapter 3

Kdin is shit at gambling.

This is the first thing she tells Jack when she gets the call, because if she’s going to be planted in a casino, Jack deserves to know.

“You can’t be that bad,” Jack says, in what’s probably supposed to be a soothing tone. She actually sounds frazzled, not that Kdin can blame her, because she’s apparently trying to rob three fucking casinos in one night.

Kdin sighs. “I can’t count cards, I get rules mixed up across the different games-”

“Oh, come on, what are the rules for blackjack?”

“Two pair beats one pair, right?”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Nope,” Kdin lies, even though she absolutely knows the rules for blackjack. “I can still do whatever you need, if the price is right. I’m just warning you now, I’m going to suck at it.”

“You’re going to be a rich casino guest, and you’re our way into the vaults. That’s all. Minimal gambling required.”

“Is the take good?”

“The take is fantastic.”

Kdin already knows the take is fantastic. As soon as she heard Jack’s message, she and Mica had started googling. Mica says the job is going to be well worth it. Kdin thinks it’ll only be worth it if they don’t end up caught and crucified, but Jack is careful. Exceptionally careful. That doesn’t stop Kdin from looking up her own jobs before she accepts them. And she thinks she’ll accept this one. “There’s just one problem.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I can’t leave Saint Petersburg until Monday morning.”

Jack goes silent for a long minute. When she speaks again, her voice is a lot tighter. “I don’t suppose you mean Florida, do you?”

“Russia, actually.”

“And that’s why it took you six days to call me back.”

“I’ve been busy,” Kdin says as breezily as she can. Jack’s not stupid, she’s going to know that Kdin was in the middle of a job. She doesn’t normally go international, but it sounded like so much fun when Mica suggested it. “I can do it, but the earliest I can get there is Tuesday.”

“What if we got a private jet?”

“Then I could get there earlier.”

“What’s the absolute earliest you could leave?”

“Stupidly early on Monday, my time.” The door to the hotel room opens, and Kdin glances at Mica as she walks in. “How long would a flight to the US west coast be?”

Mica’s eyebrows furrow. “Fifteen or sixteen hours.”

“Jack, what time do you need me?”

“The latest we can plant you in the casino is Monday afternoon,” Jack says. Kdin can actually feel the tension rising in her voice, even through the phone. “What’s the difference in time zones?”

“Ten hours.” Kdin pauses to do the math. “If you can get a plane for me on the tarmac by seven o’clock on Monday morning, I’ll be there.”

“Make it six?”

Kdin moves her phone away from her mouth. “Is six in the morning too early for a flight?”

Mica shudders. “Yeah, but so is seven. Is this the Willems job?”

“It’s the Willems job.”

“It’s worth getting up early.”

Kdin nods and readjusts her phone. “Six, Saint Petersburg.”

There’s a pause while Jack says something muffled; Kdin definitely catches the words “tell him we need his plane,” and another voice, before she comes back. “You’ll be landing around our noon. You can fight off jetlag, right?”

“I can fight off jetlag, don’t worry about me.”

“Good, good.” There’s a long pause before Jack sighs. “It’d still be better to have you tomorrow-”

Kdin shakes her head, even though Jack can’t see her. “Not an option.”

“You’re sure you can’t make it?”

“I’m sure. Going off the dates you gave me, I can be in town by the time you’re actually doing the heist, but the absolute earliest I can get there is Monday.” And even that’s a stretch, but she’s not about to tell Jack that part. Mica can finish swindling people without Kdin there, and she knows it, but partner jobs are tricky to finish alone.

“And there’s no way you can be here tonight?”

“None. Sorry, Jack.”

“No, you’re fine,” Jack says, because she doesn’t know how not to be generous. Kdin makes a mental note to slip a little bit of her profits from this heist into Jack’s profits. Whatever Jack’s going to get paid, it’s not enough for the stress she’s going through, and Kdin sure as hell isn’t helping that stress. “Finish up what you’re doing, okay? We don’t even need you here until Monday anyways. Get here as soon as you can so we can get you caught up.”

“Let me know if anything changes.”

“Will do,” Jack says, and the line clicks off.

“Vegas, baby,” Mica crows, sitting down next to Kdin and kicking her feet in the air. “Hey, do you think you’ll be able to go back after you rob a casino? You and me, we need to do Vegas sometime.”

“I don’t know, Mica, I’m not really a Vegas person.”

“But here you are, going to Vegas! For a great job, too. You’re about to have it made.”

Kdin can’t help but smile. “I can always see if they need two of us, if you want-”

“Oh, hell no, I’m staying in Russia,” Mica says. “Gotta finish what we started, and all that. You ready to go solo?”

“Born ready,” Kdin says, and hopes it’s true. This is a high-pressure heist, but she’s not an amateur. She can rob a casino.

#

There is, in fact, a private jet waiting for Kdin on the tarmac, at six o’clock on Monday morning. Mica kisses her cheek before she leaves, and Kdin climbs on the plane with a single suitcase. Leaving fast means traveling light.

The pilot gives Kdin a nod as she gets on. “Miss Jenzen. How’re you doing today?”

“Call me Kdin, please,” she says automatically, scanning the pilot for some kind of name badge. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised that there isn’t one. “I’m doing well, and how are you, Mr…”

“Just call me JJ. There are refreshments in coolers in the back, and you can help yourself. Mr. Free also outfitted this plane with wi-fi and a couple of gaming systems, so keep yourself occupied. His only request is that you watch the video saved on the laptop in the main cabin.”

Kdin nods. “Thank you, JJ. Especially since this is short notice.”

JJ’s grin goes a little bit wry. “I promise you this isn’t the shortest notice I’ve ever flown on. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, we’ve got a long flight ahead of us.”

“Fly safe,” Kdin says, even though she’s sure she doesn’t have to. JJ climbs into the cockpit, and Kdin stashes her carry-on on one of the two couches against the wall of the plane. She sits down on the other one and picks up the laptop. “Can I use the wi-fi during takeoff?” she calls toward the front of the plane.

“Of course, we’re not commercial here,” JJ scoffs. Kdin can’t help but smile as she opens the laptop. There’s a single video saved on the desktop, saved as “heist plans,” and she can feel her smile disappear.

The thing is, her job is a little bit novel sometimes. She lies to people and gets money out of it, she changes her name and hair and gets rich. This isn’t her first time in a private jet, even if it’s probably the nicest jet she’s been in. It’s fancy, bordering on glamorous. But it’s still a job.

Kdin goes to her suitcase, unzips the top pocket, and pulls out the spiral notebook and pen that she always uses. Taking notes on this job is going to take a few pages, she can already tell.

#

The flight is a blur, and even meeting Jack and Geoff is hazy in the light of jetlag, but Kdin pays attention to her dossier. Character is important, and if Jack went to the effort of faking records for her, then she needs to stick to those records.

A woman who introduces herself as “bodyguard number one, or Lindsay if you’d rather” shows Kdin to a bedroom, in what is frankly a ridiculous villa. Kdin makes a mental note to ask Jack just how rich this Mr. Free guy is.

“So this is your dressing room,” Lindsay says. “We’ve got enough outfits that you can change twice a day every day between now and Saturday and still have a few new ones left to take home. But Gavin says you can keep them all, of course.”

“That’s a lot of clothes,” Kdin says, staring at the closet. “And they’re nice. Are you sure they’re all for me?”

“Gavin doesn’t know how to not be over the top,” Lindsay admits. “Or maybe Edwyna Hargrove is just fancy.”

“Harving,” Kdin says absently, stepping forward to look at a purple ensemble. “So you’re bodyguard number one, who’s number two?”

“My husband, Michael. And your driver’s Ryan.”

“I already know Ryan, actually.”

Lindsay grins. “Cool guy, right?”

Ryan Haywood is on the short list of people Kdin would trust with her life. Possibly just as importantly, he’s on the list of people that Mica would trust with her life, and that means a lot to Kdin too.

“Yeah, he’s cool,” she says. “How long do I have to get ready?”

“Twenty minutes. I’m here if you need hairstyling or makeup. Or, well, I’ll be next door getting ready, just hit the wall if you need me.”

“Hit the wall?”

“It’s faster than yelling.” Lindsay shrugs. Kdin decides she likes her. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Kdin says. Lindsay makes her exit, closing the door behind her, and Kdin gets to work. The wig is one she’s used before, strawberry blonde and wavy and undeniably posh. It fits with the wardrobe, thank god. She wonders if Gavin chose the clothes with the disguise in mind. Not a lot of people understand con artists well enough to do that.

Kdin meets her reflection’s eyes in the mirror. “My name is Edwyna Harving,” she says, and shakes her head. Needs an accent. Something United Kingdom-y, something unidentifiable.

“My name is Edwyna Harving,” she says again, with the lightest accent she can do. It’s lilting, lingering somewhere between Welsh vowels and Scottish consonants. It’s probably her favorite accent, and it sounds like Ms. Harving. Oh, this job is going to be fun. She turns to the wall and raps her knuckles on it. “Lindsay, darling, could you come in for a second?”

Lindsay opens the door within seconds. She’s changed too, into a snappy suit and tie. She looks like a bodyguard. “So do we need to have accents too, or will that just be you?”

“Just me,” Kdin says, dropping the accent for the moment. “Do I look posh enough?”

“You look posh, all right,” Lindsay says. “You ready to go, ma’am?”

Kdin glances in the mirror one more time. Edwyna Harving looks back at her, and she knows the answer. “I’m ready,” she says.

“I’ll have Haywood bring the car around,” Lindsay says, and slips out the door. Kdin straightens her shoulders and follows her out.

“Hey, Kdin,” a voice says as soon as Kdin is down the stairs. She turns and sees Geoff in the kitchen, leaning against the counter exactly where he was earlier. “Thank you.”

Kdin blinks, startled. “For what?”

“For leaving your job to come here. Jack likes you.” Geoff half-smiles at her. “I can see why. You’re good. Good luck, Ms. Harving.”

There’s a burst of warmth in Kdin’s chest, just below her ribs, but instead of acknowledging it she just lifts her chin, let’s the line of her mouth twist the slightest bit. “When you’re rich, you don’t need luck,” she says, with the lightest of accents, and basks in the surprised delight on Geoff’s face. “I suppose you’ll be in my suite before long?”

“Sometime soon,” Geoff says. “I’ll see you then.”

“Kdin?” a new voice says. Kdin turns to see a man dressed in a suit identical to Lindsay’s. He holds out his hand. “Michael Jones, here to make sure you don’t die, ma’am.”

Kdin shakes his hand. “Call me Ms. Harving, Mr. Jones.”

“That’s a cool accent, you should teach me to do it sometime,” Michael says. Kdin wonders if she could get just Lindsay to guard her - she seems to be better at being in character, at least - when his shoulders straighten, his chin lifts, and in the blink of an eye he looks like an actual bodyguard. “Haywood is ready with the limo, ma’am, if you’ll follow me this way.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jones,” Kdin says. She adjusts her briefcase - her dossier, some toiletries, Mica’s copy of _The Art of War_ \- and follows Michael out the door. “Do we have a reservation at the Paradise?”

“Ms. Harving, you’re not the kind of woman who needs reservations,” Michael says, a grin in his voice. “Mrs. Jones and I have been assured there’s a vacant suite in the hotel, and we’re fairly certain it’s yours if you ask for it.” He opens the door, and Kdin slips into the limo, where Lindsay is waiting. “I’ll be driving in a separate car behind you.”

Kdin nods, and Michael goes to his car. She looks to the front of the limo and lets her accent drop. “Hi, Ryan.”

Ryan turns around to smile at her. “Hi, Kdin. You ready?”

“Absolutely. Let’s get ready to rob some bastards,” Kdin says.

Lindsay laughs. Ryan just smiles. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, and puts the car smoothly in gear.

#

Michael is right, as it turns out. All Edwyna has to do is ask for the suite, and it’s hers. Kdin wonders if it’s the intimidation, the fashion, or the casino they chose. Either way, almost as soon as they’re in the suite, she’s asleep on the bed.

“Jetlag,” she manages to say to Lindsay before flopping over.

“We’re not staying the night, but I’ll call room service before we leave,” Lindsay says. “We’ll be with you every night starting tomorrow, and so will Jack and Matt. Probably Geoff. But you get some rest.”

“Rest,” Kdin repeats, and closes her eyes.

#

Despite being shit at gambling, Kdin finds herself at the high-rollers table on Tuesday night. She couldn’t bring Lindsay and Michael in, and she feels strangely exposed without them, but she has a job to do. And right now, that job is playing blackjack.

“Call,” she says absently, and reaches into her purse to pull out a breath mint.

A man across the table chuckles. “Pills aren’t going to make that hand any better, Mrs. Harving.”

Kdin fixes him with the coolest glare she can. “My Altoids aren’t going to affect my game, sir,” she says, keeping her voice light, but she can tell he hears the steel in it by the way his smile strains. “And please, it’s Ms., not Mrs.”

“Hit me,” the high-roller next to Kdin says as she pops the mint into her mouth. She can tell from the minute the dealer slides him a card that he’s over, and the same happens to the next two people at the table.

The Altoid douchebag smirks. “Hit me,” he says. As soon as he has his card, his smirk turns into a full-on grin, and he turns to stare at Kdin. “I’d fold now if I were you, Ms. Harving. The cards are looking good over here.”

Kdin swallows her mint and gives him the sweetest smile she can manage. She highly doubts this fuck can beat her king-and-ten pair. “I’ll stand, and I’ll raise you three thousand,” she says, and plucks a pile of poker chips from her small mountain and pushes them forward.

Patronizing douchebag whistles. “That’s a hefty bet. You want to be careful what you spend in a Willems casino, you know. They don’t treat their money lightly.”

“Neither do I, sir,” she says. She hopes he notices that she’s not bothering to use his name, or even learn it. She likes pissing these types off.

Sure enough, his smirk goes brittle. “I won’t be calling your bet, ma’am,” he says.

The dealer, unperturbed, flips over their face-down card, deals another card, and announces, “Twenty-four. Bust. Ms. Harving, Mr. Yates, flip over your hands.”

Yates flips his cards over, looking smug. “Nineteen.”

“Twenty,” Kdin says, and flips her own hand over. The smile drops off Yates’s face instantly. “I had a good hand too, sir.”

“Ms. Harving gets her three thousand back, Mr. Yates wins the other two thousand,” the dealer announces.

“A good play,” an unfamiliar voice says. Kdin glances over to see Willems himself, standing near the table. His eyes are kinder than she expected. “And a good hand for you, Mr. Yates. You made back four times what you bet.”

Yates’s chest puffs up at that. “You know me, James, I win big.”

“That you do.” Willems’s eyes skate over to land on Kdin. “Ms. Harving, I understand you wanted to speak with me?”

“I did, and I do.” Kdin gets to her feet as elegantly as she can. “You’ll have to excuse me, but I need to miss this hand. Business to discuss.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the dealer says, and goes back to work.

Kdin looks at Willems. “Is there somewhere we can speak?”

“Of course,” he says smoothly, and leads her to a corner of the room. They end up by an empty craps table, and Willems fixes his attention on her. “What can I do for you, Ms. Harving?”

Kdin is good at reading people. She has to be. Maybe that’s why she’s surprised by how much of a _person_ Willems seems like. Based on what she knows about him he’s slightly terrifying, when he wants to be, but this man isn’t terrifying at all. Either he’s a good liar - which she can’t rule out, considering what he does for a living - or he’s not a bad guy.

But he’s still a rich guy who makes money off drunk assholes betting themselves out of house and home. And with that reminder, she straightens her spine and lifts her chin. “Now, I understand this Saturday you’ll be hosting a fight in the casino.”

“Yes, we will. If you’re interested in tickets, we can get you-”

Kdin laughs. “Oh, I’ve no interest in the fight, I have another question about Saturday. I’m expecting a package that evening, a briefcase of great personal value. Value too great to store that briefcase in my room.”

“You’re welcome to use the house safe-”

“Oh, not the house safe. Value greater than that.”

Willems stops, dead in his tracks. She can see how clearly she derailed him, and she can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction as he flounders. “Ms. Harving, I understand this briefcase must be important, but you-”

“I will remember your generosity, Mr. Willems,” she says. The fastest way to get a yes, she’s learned, is to ignore the no. The logic of the rich is rude, but it’s efficient. “I cannot possibly overstate the importance of this briefcase, not just from a personal standpoint but from a financial one. Now, surely, you can offer me something more secure than the house safe?”

“I,” Willems says, and then slides back on track. “How long will you need the storage?”

“Just one night, I’ll be leaving Sunday morning.”

“In that case, we can store your case in the Paradise’s internal vault for the night. I assure you, our security is a cut above the rest, and your briefcase will be secure and stored when you come for it in the morning.”

Kdin smiles. “Your kindness is appreciated, Mr. Willems. Thank you for your accommodation, as well as your discretion.”

“I’ll need to discuss this with my casino manager, of course-” Willems glances at his watch and grimaces. “Who I should be seeing for dinner, at any moment. If you’ll excuse me, I’m running late-”

“Of course, I won’t take any more of your time,” Kdin says.

“It’s no trouble at all, Ms. Harving.” Willems glances over his shoulder, and then leans in. “And between you and me, if you wanted to gamble Mr. Yates out of some of his winnings, that’d be just fine. He probably deserves it.”

Kdin laughs, startled and real; she barely remembers to keep it Edwyna-light. Willems doesn’t look like Willems. His eyes are sparkling and he’s smiling, looking almost genuine. Maybe it is genuine.

“I was planning on retiring for the night, but that may be worth staying up for,” she admits.

Willems straightens again, and the mask slides back on, but she can still see the spark behind his eyes. “Regardless, have a good evening, Ms. Harving.”

“And you, Mr. Willems.”

He nods and takes his leave, walking briskly towards the door of the high-rollers room. Kdin can see his wife waiting for him at the door, and James stops when he reaches her, bowing his head to talk to her. She knows they’re talking about her briefcase, they must be, but she trusts her performance and Willems’s generosity enough not to doubt their endgame.

Kdin goes back to her blackjack table and retakes her seat, giving Yates the most sickly sweet smile she can manage before looking at the dealer. “Deal me in next hand?”

#

The next few days are a blur of gambling and gourmet food, which Kdin certainly can’t complain about. She takes enough pictures to send a full scrapbook back to Mica - or rather, Lindsay does, as she’s better with a camera. Kdin doesn’t leave the Strip at all when she ventures out of the Paradise, although Michael and Lindsay do.

“We’re in charge of blowing the power grid,” Michael explains when she asks about it on Friday morning. “Which is partly in the sewers, so, you know, we’re pretty fucking gross sometimes, but we’re ready. It’s gonna be lights out when we need it to be.”

“Make it go boom,” Matt says, from in front of the TV. He’d appeared Wednesday morning and Kdin’s mostly sure he hasn’t moved since. Jack has been in and out, spending her days in the room and her nights at the villa.

“Yeah, exactly,” Michael says. “Go boom.”

“Or just fizzle out,” Lindsay adds. “Either way, shit’s going dark. Didn’t Jack make you memorize everyone’s parts?”

“Only sort of,” Kdin admits. She knows the gist of everything - she definitely already knew that Michael and Lindsay were there to make things go boom - but not the details. She certainly doesn’t know what Michael and Lindsay have been building in the bedroom that they commandeered. It’s not her job to know, it’s her job to get that briefcase in the vault. “Tonight’s the dry run, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Jack wants everyone at the villa by seven-fifteen,” Matt says.

“Which means seven o’clock or Geoff’ll kick our asses for her sake,” Lindsay finishes.

“Have you guys worked with Geoff before?”

“Not since before he went to prison,” Michael admits. “But yeah, a few times. He was a lot like he is now, except his plans were worse and his ideas were better.”

“Which is where Jack came in,” Lindsay says. “I worked with her a couple times over the last few years, although only with her and Geoff once. They’re just as good of a team now as they were then.”

“You sound surprised.”

Lindsay glances at Michael. “Do you think we’d be as good of a team after one of us spent four years in prison?”

“Uh, no, one of us would have to teach the other one about all the cool new ways to blow shit up that we discovered in prison. And in the outside world.”

“Wait,” Kdin says. Geoff had said he was Jack’s partner, but she’d assumed it was in the business sense. “Jack and Geoff are-”

“Absolutely not,” Michael says. “Geoff and Ryan have their whole making-goo-goo-eyes thing, and Jack’s too terrifying to be in a relationship.”

Kdin nods. That all sounds like it could be mostly correct, and also like she has something new to tease Ryan about, which is a dream come true. “Matt, what about you?”

“First time with Jack or Geoff,” Matt says, turning around to face them. “I’ve worked with Gavin a few times. And with Meg.”

Kdin frowns. “Meg?”

“Yeah, Turney. She’s Gavin’s girlfriend. She does the same thing you do, although she and Gavin promised they’d never do jobs together.”

That explains Gavin understanding how to shop for a con artist, at least. “I haven’t seen Meg since we were in Indonesia together a couple months ago. I had no idea she was seeing anyone.”

“They don’t talk about it. Something about not wanting anyone to be able to leverage their relationship against them.”

That makes sense, Kdin figures. She sure as hell doesn’t want anyone being able to use Mica. “It’s dangerous, caring about people in this business,” she murmurs.

Michael and Lindsay exchange a look and shrug. Lindsay looks back at Kdin. “It’s worth it, depending on the person.”

#

Kdin knew about Geoff before she met him. This was a byproduct of nothing more than coincidence: the first job she ever did with Jack was about a year and a half after Geoff’s arrest, and Jack mentioned it offhand. It was a grim thing, really, an ugly blotch on the past, and its stain manifested in the form of determination to not let anyone get caught.

“I’m not losing anyone,” Jack had said. “No man left behind.”

No man was left behind on that mission, or on any other job that Kdin has done with Jack. Kdin trusts her implicitly, explicitly, and without hesitation.

At least, she did before she knew that Geoff was there.

The thing is - and Kdin knows this from experience - it’s hard to be on a job with the person you care most about in this world. Even if you trust that person, even if you know they can take care of business, you’re scared. She and Mica don’t take group jobs together often because Kdin knows, with total and concrete certainty, that she would botch any job to keep Mica safe, and that’s not something she wants people to know. That’s not good for business. That’s not good for personal reasons.

So the problem isn’t that Jack cares about Geoff. The problem is that Jack says “no man left behind,” but Kdin would leave every man behind to save Mica. And she’s fairly certain Jack feels the same way about Geoff, and that would leave Kdin behind. She’s not willing to be left behind.

#

“Kdin’s package gets to the casino at seven-fifteen,” Jack says. “Trevor will get the codes within the next fifteen minutes. Jeremy is in the vault by seven-thirty, and from then we have thirty minutes to blow the power, or else we’re going to have one dead gymnast and a lot less money than we want.”

“I don’t want a dead gymnast,” Jeremy calls out, although it’s muffled.

Jack snorts. “Yeah, nobody ever does. From when the power blows, we have two minutes exactly to get in the vault. All entry points are open for a limited time only, so we need to move fast.” She points at Michael and Lindsay. “Go.”

Michael and Lindsay push the cash cart - a perfect replica of the ones Kdin has seen in the Paradise - into the replica vault. Something clicks into place, and they leave. Kdin leans in.

The top of the cart springs open, and Jeremy slowly, carefully unfolds himself from within, head popping up over the top. “Are you sure we can’t make it any bigger?”

“That’s pushing the dimensions as it is,” Steffie says. “Sorry, J.”

“My feet are falling asleep,” Jeremy complains, but he pushes himself out of the cart to sit on top. “What’s next?”

Jack points at a ledge near the door. “The floor is lava. Get over there.”

“Ten bucks says he shorts it,” Geoff says.

“Twenty,” Michael mutters, at the same time Ryan says “Fifteen.” Kdin smiles.

Jeremy takes a deep breath, squats down, and springs at the ledge. He grabs it easily and curls up, keeping his feet well above the floor. He starts shimmying towards the door, and Kdin already knows he’s going to be just fine.

“Goddammit, you just lost me thirty-five bucks,” Geoff says sullenly. “I hope you’re happy.”

Jeremy glances over his shoulder, still clinging to the ledge. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I responsible for you losing a little bit of cash out of your twenty fucking million? I didn’t mean to do that, my bad.”

“We don’t have the twenty mil yet,” Geoff grouses as he goes digging for his wallet. “Damn it, that’s all the cash I have on me.”

“Boo fucking hoo,” Jack says, and all the attention snaps back to her. “Okay, if anyone has any kind of issues with your jobs, now is the time to talk about it. Are we all clear?”

“All clear,” Caleb says. Next to them, Steffie nods, and when Kdin looks, everyone’s nodding. “We’re ready for tomorrow.”

“Everyone needs to be ready to go, hair and makeup, by five-thirty,” Jack says. “I know I don’t have to tell you guys how important it is that we’re completely ready, but let me say it anyways: it’s really fucking important that everyone’s completely ready. This has to be flawless.”

“It’s going to be,” Ryan says, with such easy confidence that Kdin looks at him in surprise. He shrugs. “Look at us. Could you pick a better group?”

“I could’ve,” Jack says dryly, “but I just love you all too much to pick anyone else. Get some rest, tomorrow’s a big day.”

“You get some rest too,” Lindsay says, and turns to Kdin. “Ready to go back?”

Kdin nods. “I just need my wig and I’m set to go.”

“Geoff, Gav, Trevor, and I will be in your room by noon,” Jack says. “You ready?”

“Sure,” Kdin says. “I’ve got my Altoids and everything. It’ll be great.”

#

Geoff, Gavin, Trevor and Jack are in Kdin’s room at eleven-thirty, all looking various stages of stressed.

“The worst part is the waiting,” Gavin admits as he pulls a beer from Kdin’s refrigerator. “In six hours, everything is going to start, but there’s nothing we can do until then but hope nothing blows up.”

“Hoping nothing blows up _yet,_ ” Lindsay corrects him. “We’re gonna need some explosions later.”

“You’re too excited about that.”

“Explosions get me heated, what can I say?”

Kdin makes a face. “Lindsay, as your pretend-superior, I’m going to have to ask you to stop.”

“I said heated, not hot. Although-”

“Oh, shit,” Matt says suddenly. It doesn’t sound jokey at all. Everyone whips around to look at him. He’s paler than normal, and considering that he’s a pretty pasty guy, that’s saying something. “Oh, _fuck_.”

“Oh, fuck, what?” Jack demands.

Matt looks at Geoff. “You’ve been red-flagged.”

“What,” Jack says flatly.

Gavin vaults the kitchen counter and runs to stand over Matt’s shoulder. “Is that your mug shot? Why’d you have a beard?”

“They have my mug shot?” Geoff demands. “What the fuck, why was I flagged?”

“That’s a good question, Geoff, what did you do to get yourself flagged?” Jack snaps. “Trevor, why don’t you say what Geoff did to get himself flagged?”

Kdin turns to Trevor, who looks surprised. “Uhh, if I were to guess, it’d probably be how he crashed Willems’s dinner with his employees on Tuesday night.”

“I didn’t crash jack shit!” Geoff protests. “I knew that a couple of friends were in the restaurant-”

“Bullshit!” Jack snaps. Her voice is bowstring-tense and painfully sharp. “You knew that Adam and Bruce were there, and you couldn’t resist telling them to fuck off.”

“How do you even know I was there?”

“I was tailing you,” Trevor says, totally unabashedly. “Jack asked me to.”

“And we saw it on the cameras,” Jack says. “So don’t you even bother with this ‘who, me?’ whatever the fuck you’re going for. We know it was you.”

Geoff runs his hands through his hair. “Jesus, fine, it was me. But what does being red-flagged even mean?”

“It means you can’t go on the floor,” Gavin says grimly. “If they see you, or someone who looks like you, they’ll have security on you in an instant. They don’t want you anywhere near any of them, which is a bit of a problem.”

“It is,” Jack says, and sighs. “Geoff.”

“Jack, don’t you fucking-”

“You can’t do it, Geoff!” she shouts. “You can’t go on the floor, and if you can’t go on the floor then you can’t do your job. You’re out.”

“He’s out?” Kdin says before she can stop herself.

Jack doesn’t look away from Geoff. “Either you’re out or the heist is off, and if that’s the case, then you’re going to owe some people some money.”

“This is my heist!”

“It’s _our_ heist, and it’s a heist, not a fucking revenge fantasy.”

“Fuck you,” Geoff spits, with more venom than Kdin thought he was capable of. He stalks off to the balcony, slamming the glass door shut behind him.

Jack doesn’t look too bothered. “Trevor.”

Trevor startles. “Uh. What’s up?”

“You’re the only one who’s free to cover Geoff’s job. Can you do it?”

“Can I - what?”

“Actually, I phrased that wrong. You’re the only one who’s free to cover Geoff’s job. You can do it.”

Trevor looks wide-eyed at Matt, who nods, and back at Jack. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” she says. “Go find everyone who’s not in this room, tell them that you’re the new Geoff. I’ll take care of the old Geoff. Everyone else, just… carry on.”

“Holy shit,” Lindsay murmurs. Jack ignores her, going out to the balcony and closing the door firmly behind her.

Trevor glances around. “Uh, what the fuck?”

“You got promoted,” Kdin says, already in the process of mentally reorganizing the order of events for the night. “You’re a smart kid, you can do it.”

“Okay,” Trevor says, and then shakes himself back into awareness. “Shit. Okay. I’m going to go find - who doesn’t know?”

“Steffie, Caleb, Jeremy, and Ryan,” Gavin says. Trevor makes his exit, and Gavin sighs. “Shitting hell.”

“Shitting hell,” Matt agrees, and goes back to his laptop. “Michael, Lindsay, now’s a good time to make your exit.”

Kdin looks at the clock. Edwyna’s package is due to arrive in under eight hours. At least the chances of her being the man left behind are a lot slimmer now.

#

Willems meets Edwyna outside, where she’s standing at the valet booth sans bodyguards. He cuts an impressive figure, sharp-suited, looking like he strolled off of Wall Street and not like he’s going to a wrestling match. He smiles at her as he draws close; Kdin is surprised by how genuine it seems. “Ms. Harving, hello.”

“Mr. Willems,” Kdin says politely.

“Oh, if you’re using my safe, I think you can call me James,” he says, so casually it gives her a moment of pause. This has to be some kind of a trap, some way of lulling her into a false sense of security. There’s no way he wants to be friendly with her, and yet he looks utterly sincere. It’s almost off-putting.

“Very well then, James,” Kdin says, keeping her voice cool. “I hope you understand if I’m not comfortable with the same.”

“Of course, Ms. Harving. Is your delivery on schedule?”

“I’ve no reason to believe otherwise.”

Kdin knows, actually, that Ryan will be arriving exactly on time, because she can’t conceive of him doing anything else. She reaches into her purse, pulls out her package of breath mints, and pops one into her mouth. Carefully, she rolls it around, pressing it between her tongue and her teeth to be sure it dissolves fully.

James half-laughs. “You know those things are addicting, Ms. Harving.”

“A way to avoid cigarettes,” Kdin lies easily. It’d been Jeremy’s suggestion for a cover story, and Kdin thought it was a damn good one. “I never smoked, of course, but my husband needed support as he quit.”

“Very generous of you to do that with him,” James says. “He’s a lucky man.”

Kdin very nearly snorts. There is no Mr. Harving, but she has an image of her fake husband in her head. She has to, for consistency’s sake. And she doesn’t like him very much. “If you ever meet him, remind him of that for me.”

James smiles, but before he can say anything, a black van with tinted windows rolls up. Kdin can make out Ryan’s silhouette through the glass, although she can’t make eye contact.

The door on the far side of the van opens. Michael steps out, comes around, and opens the other door. He nods at Kdin. “Ma’am.”

“Right on time, Mr. Vincent,” Kdin says. Lindsay climbs out of the van, gripping the briefcase. There’s a set of handcuffs attached to it, with one cuff around the handle and the other around Lindsay’s wrist. “Hello, Ms. Hawthorne.”

“Ma’am,” Lindsay says courteously. Michael closes the door behind her, and Ryan drives calmly off. “Are you ready?”

“Of course,” Kdin says, holding out her wrist. She can feel James’s eyes on her as Michael produces a key from his pocket. “Be careful not to fasten it too tightly.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Michael says. He unlocks Lindsay’s cuff and fastens it around Kdin’s wrist. Lindsay passes Kdin the suitcase.

“You’ve got quite the secure setup, Ms. Harving,” James remarks. Lindsay smoothly goes around him to open the casino door. Michael presses the handcuff key into Kdin’s hand and starts into the casino. James watches them all idly, but Kdin has the distinct feeling that he’s paying rapt attention. “Are you prepared to go to the vault?”

“Yes, it’s about time we did,” Kdin says. She follows Michael into the casino, and James goes alongside her. “Mr. Vincent, Ms. Hawthorne, you’re free to return to my suite if you so choose."

“We’ll see you there, ma’am,” Lindsay says. She and Michael peel off towards the elevators. Kdin watches them work their way through a section of slot machines and-

Geoff is there.

A litany of curses spring to Kdin’s mind immediately, and she’s ready to let them fly, but James’s presence keeps her focused. She can’t give up Geoff like this, even if she’s furious. God, what the fuck is he doing? Doesn’t he understand that this heist means something to people other than him - namely, to her? If he fucks this up, Kdin is going to personally send him back to prison, Jack be damned.

Or, well, maybe that’s harsh. Maybe Jack planned for this. Either way, Kdin knows what her job is, and it’s not kicking Geoff’s ass. It’s turning away and acting like she didn’t see him. God forbids Willems catches Geoff.

“Right this way, Ms. Harving,” James says, and leads her through the casino. “I’ll need to see the interior of the briefcase, you understand.”

“Of course, James,” Kdin says. They’d planned for that. They’d planned for pretty much all eventualities. “Your security is paramount tonight, as well as mine.”

“And my wife would kill me if I didn’t,” James says, which seems like a non-sequitur until Kdin realizes they’re coming to a stop in front of an unmarked door. Elyse is waiting outside. She gives James a warm smile, which he returns. “Ms. Harving, let me introduce you to my wife, Elyse, who manages the floor of the casino. Elyse, this is Edwyna Harving, who’ll be storing her case with us tonight.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Elyse says. She doesn’t offer a hand, which Kdin appreciates; between the briefcase in one hand and key in the other, she couldn’t shake hands anyways. “We’ll step into this room, where we count the money - it’s all perfectly secure, don’t worry - and check the contents of the briefcase. After that, we can’t allow you personally into the vaults as per company security measures, but we can give you access to our security room. You can monitor your briefcase through our video surveillance and be assured that it enters the vault. Sound good?”

Kdin can’t help the way her lips quirk into a smile, and she doesn’t fight it. She thinks Edwyna would be charmed by Elyse, too. “Sounds good,” she echoes.

“Excellent,” Elyse says, and swipes a keycard. The completely nondescript, completely regular door, slides into the ground. James and Elyse apparently don’t care that most doors don’t do that, because they just step in. Kdin follows them, suddenly feeling out of place.

The room is empty, except for a table that James gestures to. “Ms. Harving, if you could, please place your briefcase on that table and open it so we can see its contents.”

Kdin sets the briefcase on the table and unlatches it to display the jewels inside, resting on a velvet tray. Four of them are gleaming emeralds, and one is a topaz, just a shade away from the disgustingly orange logo that Willems uses for his business. Geoff had insisted on that. Something about the irony being too great to handle. Kdin’s never going to see the jewels in action, so she’ll just settle for showing them off while she can.

“They’re gorgeous,” Elyse says politely. “May I?”

Kdin gestures at the briefcase. Elyse lifts the tray, and James steps forward to pat down the interior of the briefcase. They must be satisfied with what they find, because Elyse sets the tray back down.

James turns to Kdin. “Ms. Harving, I acknowledge that this case does not contain any dangerous or illicit material, and I consent to store this case within my vault for a twenty-four hour period. You’re allowed to watch the case to ensure its safety as per the terms we discussed earlier, do you agree?”

“I agree,” Kdin says, and unlocks her handcuff. She reaches into her purse, pulls out an Altoid, and pops it into her mouth. “James, will you be accompanying me to the security room?”

“I’ll be able to, but I can’t stay long. Elyse will be with you until your case is safely stored. Which reminds me-” James sighs. “I apologize, Ms. Harving, I hate to talk business in front of you, but needs must.”

“Needs must,” Kdin agrees.

“Thank you,” James says, and turns to Elyse. His face visibly darkens. “We passed Mr. Ramsey in the slots on our way over.”

Elyse frowns. “Will we need to do anything about that?”

“Assign him a couple of plainclothes guards, nothing more than that. It should be a non-issue.” James claps his hands. “Let’s get Ms. Harving to the security room.”

“Let’s,” Kdin agrees, trying not to sound like something cold is settled in her stomach. She’s going to do her job, and her team is going to do their jobs, but she knows that Jack won’t leave Geoff behind. So where will that leave her?

#

The security room in the Paradise is, as it turns out, one of the most impressive rooms Kdin has ever been in. Everyone is laser-focused on what they’re doing, and there are monitors everywhere. She can see the entire casino floor: Geoff in the slots, Caleb dealing blackjack, Michael now dressed like any regular casino-goer leaving to meet with Ryan. She doesn’t let her eyes rest on any one of them too long, but she can’t help but be reassured. These people know what they’re doing.

“You can see the interior of the vault on this cluster of monitors,” James says, gesturing to a wall-to-wall setup on one side of the room. “If you look on monitor- Elyse, which one-”

“28B,” Elyse says, pointing at a different monitor. “You can see your briefcase with one of our security operatives. You can just follow those monitors row by row until he’s in the vault corridor, so you never lose sight of it.”

“Thank you for your accommodations,” Kdin says, going into her purse for another Altoid. “I won’t keep you, Mr. Willems.”

“And I can’t be kept.” James smiles faintly at her before turning to Elyse. “You’ll be at the match-”

“-before it starts, don’t worry.” Elyse leans up on her toes, and Kdin averts her eyes before James kisses her. She knows that they’re her marks and that this whole heist exists to ruin them, but she likes them, rather genuinely. She swallows her Altoid, just to distract herself, and when she looks back James is halfway out the door.

“Thank you for your accommodation, Mrs. Willems,” Kdin says, turning to the monitors that Elyse had pointed to before. “I know your part in this was substantial, in allowing your husband to fit me in to your routines.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Elyse says. If it’s a lie, Kdin can’t tell by how easily she says it. “You’re free to stay until your briefcase is secured in the vault, at which point I’ll walk you out.”

“I understand,” Kdin says, eyes searching the monitors. God only knows how Matt isn’t overwhelmed, having all this on his own laptop, but she manages to find the door that they came in. She locks eyes on it just as James exits and goes over to an assistant, waiting by the door with his portfolio. He takes it, and right on cue, Trevor approaches. Kdin has to fight down a smile; the kid’s a natural.

(“I don’t know anything about the gaming commission,” Trevor said, but he already looked more comfortable in the suit than he had a handful of minutes ago. “Are you _sure-_ ”

“Geoff can’t do it,” Matt said, sounding remarkably less exasperated than Kdin felt. “For, like, the thousandth time, dude, we’re sure.”

“And besides, you’re not doing a routine visit,” Kdin added. “It’s okay if you seem a little uncomfortable, it’s an uncomfortable thing you’re about to bring up.”

“So make him uncomfortable?”

“Well,” Matt said. “No. You’re confident. Just uncomfortable. You can do it.”)

Trevor does look comfortable. His facial expression, from what she can see, is equal parts business and worry. He’s going to be just fine. With that particular plan in motion, Kdin starts scanning again. She can see Lindsay, wearing a casino security uniform and pushing a cash cart, and she can see Geoff-

Geoff isn’t in the slots. Kdin folds her hands behind her back to keep from fidgeting with them as she starts scanning in earnest. If Geoff’s stupid - and there’s no telling whether or not that’s true at this point - then he won’t be anywhere near the room. In fact, maybe he’ll be near the restaurant where Jack caught him earlier.

Kdin’s eyes settle on a camera in front of the restaurant. Two men are leaving, tall and broad-shouldered, and Geoff is approaching.

“Huh,” Elyse says, and Kdin wants to fucking _scream._ When she glances over, Elyse has a finger against her earpiece. “James, Ramsey is approaching Adam and Bruce again, should we have security interfere?” She pauses, nods to herself, and unclips a walkie-talkie from her belt.

Kdin forces herself to tune Elyse out and look away, back towards the vault monitors. Lindsay is approaching with the cash cart, and Kdin can practically hear the lines she’d been rehearsing relentlessly.

(“Try saying it sounding more upset,” Kdin suggested. “You know, your job’s on the line for this.”

“Okay, let me just-” Lindsay took a deep breath and rolls her shoulders back. When she looked back at Kdin, there was such genuine stress on her face that Kdin suddenly and fiercely wanted an antacid. “Shit, I can’t find my security card. I know where I must’ve left it, but I don’t have time - god, the cart - can you make sure it gets into the vault? Please, man, there’s cash in here, it can’t wait. It’ll never happen again, I promise.”

“Good,” Kdin said. “But be less teary. More panicked. Try one more time.”)

Judging from the way the guy standing guard sighs, he buys the story. And thank god, the guy with the briefcase gets there seconds later. Everything goes the way they’d hoped: Lindsay makes her way out of the vault, still looking stressed, the elevator guard waves a colleague over to take the cash cart, and the cart and the briefcase both go down to the vault.

“As you can see, your property is secure with us,” Elyse says, startling Kdin away from her thoughts. Kdin turns to look at her, and Elyse offers a slight, warm smile. “I mean, you knew it would be, that’s why you asked us to take care of it, but it’s always nice to remind you, right?”

“Quite so,” Kdin says, but her voice is breathier than she expected. Shit. Come to think of it, she can feel a sweat breaking out on the back of her neck. It must be the stress, she decides, looking back at the monitors just in time to see two security guards approach Geoff. With one on either side they march him off to a different part of the casino. Kdin doesn’t bother searching the cameras to follow their path. If the stress is doing this to her, she should avoid the stress and look somewhere else.

So she takes in the casino. It’s a good night on the floor: gamblers everywhere, nearly every slot machine taken, nearly every table game full. Trevor and James are approaching Caleb on one screen, and on another Lindsay is making her way hurriedly back to the elevator to the suite.

“Ms. Harving, are you all right?” Elyse says. Kdin can feel Elyse’s eyes on her. “You’re looking a little pale, can I get you anything?”

“No, that’s quite all right, but thank you,” Kdin says, twisting her fingers together and trying to focus. She knows what she has to do next, but she can’t. Not until she knows the plan is still working.

The vault elevator opens, and the guards make their way towards the vault itself. The guards in front of the vault unlock it, and Kdin switches her attention to the center monitor: the vault.

It’s a lot of money. It doesn’t look like it, all packaged up and in carts, but she knows. She knew it when she and Mica first looked up how much the average Vegas casino makes in a night, and then a Willems casino. Kdin always knew that she was going to get rich from this job, but it’s still something else watching the groundwork for the heist come together right in front of her eyes.

Her head is getting light. She digs a fingernail into her wrist. Not yet.

The guards are talking as they bring their payloads in. The one with the cart pushes it in place next to an identical one. Kdin can’t help but wonder how much the average casino cash cart must weigh, if the guard doesn’t notice the difference between a typical cart and a cart with Jeremy inside it. The guy’s not huge, but he’s not exactly light either.

Still, Jeremy is in the vault, and that’s a success. The plan is working, Jeremy is in place, and the other guard is putting Edwyna’s briefcase in the vault.

Except, because apparently God xerself hates Kdin, the guard sets the briefcase down on top of Jeremy’s cart.

There’s a moment, a blindingly hopeful moment, where Kdin thinks she must be seeing it wrong. It can’t be that cart, and even if it is, Jeremy is a good enough gymnast that it won’t be a problem. It can’t be a problem, she can’t deal with any more fucking problems tonight.

“Is this to your satisfaction, Ms. Harving?” Elyse says politely.

Kdin doesn’t have to act anymore, isn’t sure she could if she tried, so she lets her breath sound as shaky and shallow as it actually is. “Yes, it is,” she says.

She has to hand it to Elyse: the woman is a consummate business professional. She doesn’t question Kdin’s health again, just lifts her walkie to her mouth. “Vault, go ahead and reseal.”

The guards leave the vault, and from a different monitor Kdin can see it being resealed. Her job is officially done.

“If that’s all, Ms. Harving, then I’ll walk you out,” Elyse says.

“Of course,” Kdin says. She’s planning on trying to walk, at least, but there’s no way in hell she can. As soon as she turns to go her head is swimming, and the number of monitors in front of her triples. She goes down like a ton of bricks and barely even feels it herself hit the ground.

(“Jack said you’ll use these,” Michael said, handing Kdin an orange bottle of pills. “They’re not much in the ways of recreational use, they’re just going to make you sick as hell.”

“I’m not a fan of sick as hell,” Kdin muttered, rolling the bottle around in her hand. “So, what, am I just supposed to carry a bottle of prescription pills with me and hope nobody notices that I’m taking a lot right before I faint?”

“Faint and have to be taken to the hospital, actually,” Lindsay said. “I’m one of the EMTs that’s going to pick you up. And don’t worry, I know someone who used those pills on the job once. Said they just felt like a bad flu, and that was gone as soon as he woke up. It’s going to suck before you pass out, though.”

“How did he hide them?”

Lindsay shrugged. “Look at them, you can come up with something.”

Kdin popped the lid off of the bottle and poured a couple of pills into her hand. They weren’t capsules, at least, that’d be harder to entertain. “Do these dissolve in your mouth?”

“They should, although I don’t know what they taste like.”

She rolled the pills around in her hand. They were small and white and chalky, and pretty innocuous, honestly. There had to be a solution here. Something she could disguise them as, something nobody would question her having.

“You know,” Kdin said thoughtfully, “these things kind of look like Altoids.”)

There’s noise, all around, that Kdin can’t parse. She can make out Elyse’s voice, although it only sounds like a mess of jumbled syllables. The security guards on the monitors are bustling around, Kdin can see dozens of them running across her field of view. She wishes she could focus enough to look at the monitors, but the lights are spreading in front of her eyes, getting brighter and smaller and farther away.

“Harving,” she hears, and thinks dazedly, _that’s my name, they mean me,_ and then _Mica is going to be so pissed if she hears I died,_ and the voices don’t go away. Words float around in her head, like “collapsed” and “awake” and “ambulance,” but they don’t sound very close. In fact, it sounds like she’s in a tunnel.

Kdin knows, somewhere distantly in her head, that she isn’t dying, that it’s just the pills, that nobody will even think to look at the mints in her purse or question this as anything but natural, but if this is what dying feels like, she’s going to put it off as long as possible.

The last thing she hears, before she fades into somewhere that she can’t feel the sweat on the back of her neck or her heart trying desperately to beat faster, is Jack’s warm, blessedly confident voice, saying “Step back, I’m a doctor.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Go through it one more time,” Jack says.

Trevor likes Jack, but he’s a little scared of her. Not in a bad way, just on principle. Anyone who masterminded a plan to rob multiple casinos is worth being scared of, and anyone who’ll kick their co-mastermind off the plan is downright terrifying. He’s not terrified of Jack, per se, but he gets the feeling that he should be, especially since the entirety of her attention is on him right now.

“Okay,” Trevor says, and draws himself up to his full height. He’s used to playing the role of upstanding citizen, and right now he’s supposed to be the most upstanding of all citizens. With as much confidence as he can fake, he looks at Jack and turns the charm up to eleven. “Mr. Willems, I’m Linus Catton with the Nevada Gaming Commission, I’m here to-”

“Hands,” Jack says, sounding almost bored.

Trevor stops. “What about my hands?”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“Uh.” Trevor clasps his hands in front of him. “That?”

“You’re here on business, not at his yacht party. Try again.”

He slips his hands in his pockets, and Jack shakes her head. “You’re not at his barbecue, either. Think business. You’ve been watching business people all week, now be one of them.”

Trevor’s hands drop to his sides - where they were before, although he’d never point that out to Jack - which earns him a nod. “Remember, you’ve gotta be quick. You want him to like you, but not to remember you. Get through what you need to do, and make an impression that’ll last all of sixty seconds after you’re gone.”

“Sixty seconds,” Trevor repeats, and glances at himself in the mirror. He looks pretty sharp in the suit, if he does say so himself, but his reflection doesn’t look like a business person. His reflection looks like a terrified pickpocket who has no place in the middle of this big heist. “Jack, do you really think-”

“Jack,” Gavin calls from the kitchen, “Michael’s got a question.”

“Coming,” Jack says. She gives Trevor one last critical once-over. “You’ll be fine,” she says, and leaves the room.

Trevor wanders out behind her and glances at Kdin. “Do I look business-y?”

“You look good,” she answers, which really doesn’t answer the question.

“Thanks,” Trevor says anyways.

Jeremy, from where he’s sitting next to Matt, turns around. “Hey, nice suit, Treyco. You’re gonna do great.”

“Thanks,” Trevor repeats, but he can’t help that he sounds more doubtful this time. It’s not that he doesn’t think he can do it - or, well, not completely. He can do his original part of the plan. It’s Geoff’s role, the actual break-in, that scares the shit out of him. Lying, scamming, picking pockets, that’s easy - the rest is harder.

Matt turns around and frowns. “Loosen up, freaking out isn’t going to do any good.”

“Isn’t impersonating a government agent some kind of felony?”

“It’s not any worse than stealing hundreds of millions of dollars,” Kdin points out. “Besides, you’ve been practicing, you’ll do fine.”

Trevor has been practicing - mostly with Jeremy, who seems to like puffing his chest out and pretending to own casinos, but occasionally with Kdin. She’s good at exuding the right kind of cool intimidation that Trevor has been reading off of Willems all week.

“Only if he doesn’t ask me anything too specific. I don’t know anything about the gaming commission.” He pauses, tries to fight down the urge, but he has to check one more time. “Are you _sure_ -”

“Geoff can’t do it,” Matt says, and Trevor’s mouth snaps shut. Damn him, understanding exactly what he’s nervous about. “For, like, the thousandth time, dude, we’re sure.”

“And besides, you’re not doing a routine visit,” Kdin adds. “It’s okay if you seem a little uncomfortable. It’s an uncomfortable thing you’re about to bring up.”

Trevor frowns. “So make him uncomfortable?”

“Well,” Matt says thoughtfully. “No. You’re confident, just uncomfortable. You can do it.”

“We’ll be rooting for you,” Jeremy adds. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m going to be worried no matter what,” Trevor mutters, but he can feel his nerves dissipating. If it were a solo job, he could botch it without feeling too bad, but with eleven other people riding on him? There’s not another option here. He has to nail this. “How long do we have?”

“I go downstairs in-” Kdin glances at an elegant watch on her wrist. “About an hour and a half, so you’ve got a little under two hours until showtime.”

“Cool,” Trevor says, and goes to sit next to Matt. “Let’s people-watch. We’ve got time to kill.”

#

Even though he’s expecting it, the knock on the door still makes Trevor jump. “Room service,” Lindsay says cheerfully.

He opens the door and she pushes the cart in. It’s almost a perfect replica of the casino cash carts, not that you can tell with the tablecloth over it.

“Trevor, time to get going,” Jack says. “Jeremy, you too.”

Jeremy stands up, stretching as he does. “That’s my home for thirty minutes, huh?”

“You’ve got it, man,” Matt says, absently reaching up to pat Jeremy’s arm. “Don’t even worry about it, you’ll fit in there.”

Jeremy snorts. “I mean, I’m mostly worried about breathing, but thanks.”

“You’ll be fine, Lil J,” Gavin says, looking at him wide-eyed. “As long as Treyco doesn’t munge it up.”

Trevor ignores him and turns to Jeremy. “Good luck.”

“Yeah, you too,” Jeremy says, offering a terse smile. He looks nervous - although he probably has more reason to be nervous than Trevor. If Trevor fucks up, it just means he wasted a couple of weeks on a job that didn’t work. If Jeremy fucks up, well, there’s only so long his oxygen tank will last him. Jeremy has the most to lose out of all of them. Trevor’s not about to let him lose it.

“Got your earpiece?” Jack says. Trevor taps it, already in place, and she nods. “Good. You ready?”

“Sure,” Trevor says, “let’s go with that.”

Jack smiles. It’s not particularly friendly, actually verging on grim, but Trevor would like to think there’s some kind of approval there. “Go get ‘em.”

So Trevor does. He straightens his tie and goes down in the elevator and tries to remember all of the advice Jack and Kdin had thrown at him. _Be quick. Make an impression that’ll last sixty seconds. It’s okay to be a little uncomfortable._

“Can you hear me in there, Trevor?” Matt’s voice says, tinny in Trevor’s ear but still clear. Trevor steps out of the elevator, spots the nearest security camera, and nods as slightly as possible before starting towards his target. He’d seen the door where Kdin and Willems had vanished, and he knows where he has to go.

“Remember, you’re here on business,” Matt says. “Very serious business.”

“Mmmhm,” Trevor says, glancing around as he goes. He doesn’t see Greene or Kovic, not that they necessarily matter, but he catches a flash of someone who looks like Geoff heading towards the restaurant. But that shit is well and truly not his problem, and besides, Matt will notice. If not now, then soon.

“Just don’t fuck it up,” Matt says.

Trevor can’t help but smile as he approaches the corner near where Willems vanished. “Thanks,” he murmurs, just as Willems comes out. An assistant appears, hands him a portfolio, and steps away.

Trevor takes a deep breath. This is the moment of truth. There’s no time to be anything other than flawless, and so he’s as smooth as possible when he steps forward. “Mr. Willems, a moment of your time?”

The barest hint of irritation flits across Willems’s face, but it smooths over as he turns to Trevor. He stashes the portfolio in his jacket pocket and gives Trevor the most blandly professional smile he’s ever seen. “Can I help you?”

Trevor reaches into his pocket and pulls out his badge. “Linus Catton, I’m with the Nevada Gaming Commission. I’m afraid we’ve discovered a problem with one of your blackjack dealers, something somewhat urgent.”

“Well, if it’s urgent,” Willems says, almost lightly. “Who do I need to find?”

 _They're at a a blackjack table in your casino, practically in our line of sight from here, second row, third one from the left._ “The dealer’s name is Jocelyn Andrews - at least, that’s the name they gave you. They deal in pit number six. We have reason to believe Mx. Andrews is using a pseudonym because they’ve been blacklisted from dealing at all major casinos.”

Willems frowns. “Can we walk and talk?”

“Of course,” Trevor says. Willems starts forward, and Trevor almost struggles to keep pace with him. “I understand this could come as a shock, if you have any questions-”

“No questions, I just want to talk to them,” Willems says curtly. “Actually, no, I have one question. What’s their given name?”

“Denecour. Caleb, that is.”

Willems nods, striding forward. “Jacob,” he calls, and one of the pit bosses looks up as Willems approaches. Willems says something, quiet and hurried, and Jacob nods and scurries off.

Willems goes back to Trevor. “Thank you for your visit, Mr. Catton. I assure you, you won’t need to stay long.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Willems,” Trevor says, and then waits. If their guesses about Willems are right - and he really fucking hopes they are - he’s going to take the portfolio out and check the codes right now. They have to be right.

Willems’s hand dips into his jacket pocket, and he pulls the portfolio out. Trevor’s heart nearly stops as he flips it open. He pulls out a slip of paper, and Trevor knows, he just knows it’s the vault combination, and this is the moment of truth-

“Can’t see it all,” Matt’s voice says ruefully in Trevor’s ear. “You’re going to have to lift it, Trev.”

“Mr. Willems,” a voice says, and Trevor bites back a curse. Caleb is standing in front of them, looking nervous. “You wanted to see me?”

Willems slips the portfolio back in the same pocket, and the sheet with the code into the pocket on the other side. “Mx. Andrews, can you come with us, please?”

Caleb looks cautiously from Willems to Trevor, eyes questioning. As minutely as possible, Trevor shakes his head. No codes.

“Okay,” Caleb says timidly. “Where are we going?”

“We have a room in the back where we can talk, if you follow me.” Willems starts off, and Trevor gestures after him. Caleb shoots him a strange look but follows Willems, and Trevor brings up the rear. If they’re going to be questioning Caleb, then they need to be in the middle. No room to escape, or something.

Willems takes them to a hallway, activated by a keycard, in the depths of the Paradise. They take a left turn, then a right, and Willems opens a door. “After you, Mx. Andrews.”

Caleb enters the room, and Trevor follows them. It’s a minimalist room, nothing but a table and a chair.

“Take a seat, Mx. Andrews,” James says, going to stand on the other side of the table. Trevor follows him.

“Mr. Willems, what’s going on?” Caleb says as they sit. “Who is this?”

“Linus Catton, with the Nevada Gaming Commission,” Trevor says as coolly as possible. “Mx. Denecour, we’d like to thank you for your cooperation.”

Caleb starts. “I- I’m afraid you have the wrong dealer, my name isn’t Denecour-”

“Mx. Denecour, there’s no need for pretenses here,” Willems says. “Mr. Catton has informed me that you’ve been blacklisted from working at several casinos. I don’t know how you passed our facial recognition tests if that’s the case, but this is a hefty accusation from the NGC, and we can’t allow you to continue to work here.”

Caleb shakes their head. “No, I’m not-”

“Caleb Denecour, formerly of the Tropicana, affiliated with several organized crime groups?” Trevor reaches into his suit jacket, pulls out a tablet, unlocks it, and hands it to Willems. Gavin had insisted that it’s top of the line, so new that Willems shouldn’t be able to recognize it - something befitting a government agent, even if Kdin says that the NGC wouldn’t give their operatives something that fancy.

Willems begins scrolling through the mostly-fake criminal profile that Matt had compiled. Caleb had complained at first that he shouldn’t use their real name, but Jack had insisted. If Willems decided to launch an internal investigation, he needed something real that his security officers could find, and Caleb’s name would bring up real results.

“I was kidnapped by an organized crime group, if that’s what you mean,” Caleb snaps. Their shoulders hunch in slightly. “I doubt they’d call it an affiliation, although you could always call them and ask.”

Willems locks the tablet and hands it back to Trevor, who sets it down on the table. Willems leans in. “Mx. Denecour, direct affiliation or not, connection with organized crime is something we can’t tolerate here.”

In half a second Caleb’s face goes cold, and they snort. “Tell that to your _wife._ ”

Trevor can’t help it; his jaw drops, just a little. Willems’s gaze sharpens, but Caleb just lifts their chin. As far as Trevor can tell, it’s something of an open secret that Elyse is connected to the mafia. Also as far as he could tell, Willems isn’t particularly kind to anyone who brings that up, especially to use against him. Caleb is playing with fire.

“Mx. Denecour, I’d appreciate it if you kept your comments professional,” Willems says tightly. “I understand that the loss of a job is upsetting, but I assure you, this is related to gaming board regulations and nothing to do with your performance-”

“And everything to do with how you’ll only let one mafia freak in your casinos?” Caleb finishes, half-hysterical.

Trevor cottons to the plan at exactly the right moment. His reflexes are just good enough that he realizes when Willems is about to move. This is the best part of the job: moving fast. This is why they hired him to begin with.

Willems takes a sharp step forward. Caleb flinches back violently, and Trevor slips in front of Willems. “Mr. Willems,” he says sharply, and as Willems’s eyes turn to his, his hand dips into Willems’s jacket pocket. The sheet with the codes is small, but Trevor’s stolen smaller things on shorter notice. It’s easy to lift from his pocket, easier to slide into his own while Willems is staring at him.

Willems holds Trevor’s eyes for a long minute before he sighs, and his eyes flick over Trevor’s shoulder to Caleb. “Needless to say, you’re fired,” he says. “Make no mistake, I was going to give you your two weeks, but when you make personal comments, you lose that right.”

Trevor turns to look at Caleb, who’s still curled up, flinching away from Willems. He almost feels bad - Caleb always seemed a little jumpy, and while they’re a good actor, he hopes this didn’t actually scare them.

Caleb’s eyes dart to Trevor, looking at him reproachfully. “I hope you’re happy that I lost my job.”

Trevor really hopes that he’s understanding this code correctly. “I’m just doing my own job, Mx. Denecour. And my work here is done.”

“Oh, thank fucking _god,_ ” Matt says in Trevor’s ear. “He’s got the code, Lindsay, you can take Jeremy to the vault.”

Willems unhooks a walkie talkie from his belt and lifts it. “Security, I need two guards to room 3B to escort a dealer off the premises.”

“I can go by myself,” Caleb snaps, pushing their chair back as loudly as possible.

“I’m sure you can, and you’ll be allowed to go freely as soon as you’re out of my casino,” Willems says. “But until then, you’re a disgruntled former employee, and I can’t keep you on our grounds any longer.”

The door opens to reveal two security guards. “You called, Mr. Willems?” one says.

Willems smiles tightly. “If you could, please escort Mx. Denecour outside.”

“Yes, sir. Right this way,” the same guard says. Caleb gets up, eyes skating across both Willems and Trevor as they go, and the first guard leads them out.

The second guard lingers. “Mr. Willems, there’s a red-flagged patron waiting in room 1C.”

Trevor’s heart stops. _Geoff._ It has to be.

“Give him the usual guest treatment,” Willems says. The guard leaves, and Willems turns to Trevor. “Mr. Catton, let me walk you out.”

“Of course. And thank you for your cooperation,” Trevor says, and follows Willems out. He waits until they’re about halfway to the door they entered before he stops in his tracks and pats his jacket down, as dramatically as he can manage. “Oh, god, I left my tablet in the room, I’m so sorry. Is there any way I can-”

Willems stops and turns around, checking his watch in the process. “Can you find your own way out?”

“Of course. Enjoy the fight, Mr. Willems.”

Willems leans forward and shakes Trevor’s hand. “Thank you for doing your job, Mr. Catton.” With that he spins on his heel and heads out.

Trevor takes a second to make sure Willems is well on his way out before going back, almost the way he came. “Let me know if I make a wrong turn,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“No problem,” Matt says cheerfully. “Nice job on the light fingers, by the way. That was pretty impressive.”

“Hey, thanks,” Trevor says, turning down a new hall. He reaches into his suit pocket just to double check, and the page of codes is still there. Absolutely perfect. “Gotta say, I kinda missed stealing things this past week.”

“Right, because you haven’t been taking my shirts,” Jack says dryly.

Trevor makes the most offended noise he can manage. “Jack, I would never-”

“It was a good idea for blending in, but don’t steal people’s clothes,” she says. “Michael, if you’re listening, you doing good?”

“Ready to go when you give the word,” Michael says, static-covered and grinning so hard Trevor can hear it. “Everything good there?”

“Everything is great,” Trevor says, turning down another hall, this one narrower. Steffie had said that the route she made him memorize included some maintenance halls, and he can tell this is one of them. “Just fine. How’s Kdin?”

“You know, there are no security cameras in the security center,” Matt says. “Seems like an oversight. But if her timing’s any good, she’s going to collapse any minute.”

There are a few seconds of silence; Trevor turns down another narrow hall. At last, just like he knew would happen, Jack says, “Okay, let’s run this down, one more time-”

“Jack, fucking breathe for a second,” Michael says, not unkindly. “Let’s check on something else. Where’s Caleb?”

“The guards took them outside and they went across the street,” Matt reports. “Jack, you’ve got about thirty seconds, go through it quick.”

Jack takes a deep breath. “Kdin collapses, someone calls 911, Matt uses his technology magic to intercept the call. Ryan, Lindsay and I go downstairs to play paramedic and get her out of there. In the meantime Gavin makes a public appearance at the fight just to shift attention away from him. Trevor gets Jeremy out of the vault as soon as Michael blows the power, and that’s where shit gets complicated.”

“Yeah,” Trevor says, turning down one last maintenance hall. “That’s where.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jack mutters. “I’m going to check on Ryan and Lindsay, let me know if something goes wrong.”

“Aye-aye, boss-lady,” Matt says. “Treyco, stop moving for a minute, Jeremy’s not in the vault yet.”

Trevor stops at the end of the maintenance hall. If he takes a few steps forward he’s clearly visible on one of the main hall cameras in front of the vault, and that’s pretty counterproductive. “How’s he doing?” he whispers, taking a couple of steps backwards.

“Between the elevator and the vault, so give it another minute,” Matt says. Trevor takes a minute to be grateful that their security guy is so chill. Jeremy is literally trapped in a metal box, about to be stuck in a bigger, more dangerous metal box? No big deal. Matt is almost relaxed enough to make Trevor forget that he’s fucking dead if this goes wrong.

Somewhere in the background, Gavin says something, and Matt snorts. “Gavin has asked me to tell you that you’re the most obvious spy he’s ever seen, including, quote, ‘that time with his girlfriend in Iceland.’ And you’re lucky that nobody probably looks at the maintenance hall cameras.”

“What do you mean, _probably_?” Trevor demands, immediately flattening himself against a wall. “Oh my god, am I on camera?”

“Smile,” Gavin says cheerily, loudly enough that Trevor can hear him.

“If pattern holds, you’re gonna be fine,” Matt says. “And given that everyone in that room is probably watching a guard wheel Jeremy into a vault right now, you’re definitely gonna be fine.”

Trevor exhales slowly and unpeels himself from the wall. “Okay,” he says. “Everything’s fine.”

“Fine,” Matt says. “Everything’s totally- oh, _shit._ ”

“That’s really not encouraging,” Trevor mutters, rolling his shoulders back. “Is he in?”

“Kdin’s briefcase is on top of Jeremy’s cart,” Matt murmurs. “But yeah, now’s the time, get going.”

“Fuck,” Trevor says, but starts forward anyways with all the confidence in the world. There’s no guard between him and the elevator, and he has the codes. Now is the time to be confident.

“Vault door is sealed,” Matt says, and immediately Trevor’s earpiece is filled with the sound of keys tapping. “All right, if Kdin timed it right, everyone in that room is looking at her, and the quote-unquote ‘paramedics’ are going to be there any minute. Go quick.”

“Oh, I’m going,” Trevor says, and stops just shy of the vault elevator door. It’s intimidating, he’ll give it that, but he has the code. Willems’s own code.

Not that Trevor has something against rich assholes, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hugely satisfying to punch in that code and watch the doors open. What can he say? There’s a lot of satisfaction in being bigger than the big guys.

The elevator door slides shut, and Trevor immediately pushes up on the tips of his toes. There’s a loose panel, which he pulls down to the floor with a clatter. Now he just has to push up the trap door above the panel, which is a bit of a stretch, but he can almost reach it.

Or, well, he almost reaches it when suddenly it disappears. He stumbles back a step, stunned by the fucking hole in the elevator ceiling, and he almost doesn’t register the hand sticking down, or the tattoos on it.

“Hey, kid,” Geoff says, casual as can be. “Need a lift?”

#

Trevor isn’t a poor kid, per se. Or, well, he’s not the poorest person he’s ever met, but he’s also not the richest. He’s definitely closer to the bottom end of the financial spectrum, and, well, picking pockets is a lot quicker than getting a job. Less paperwork, too.

He hitchhiked to Vegas from Indiana when he was nineteen, just to get the fuck away from home. Nobody knows him in Vegas, and it’s so _big_ that he can camp out in front of any casino and steal wallets all day. He has his own apartment, he’s considering getting a cat (although he’s not sure he wants to devote himself to that in the midst of a life of crime; what would happen to it if he were arrested?) and he’s not bad off. He’s not.

It’s just, well. When someone like Geoff appears out of nowhere, figures out that he’s been pickpocketed, and starts tossing around words like “arrested for theft” and “a few million dollars,” he can’t say no. It’s a matter of principle. He could use a few million more dollars in his life, and if this is how to make that happen, then he’ll do it in a heartbeat.

Geoff didn’t seem like the most trustworthy guy, per se. When a guy covered in tattoos tells you he just got out of prison, typically you run away. But Trevor likes him. And even if he doesn’t trust Geoff fully, he trusts Matt and Jeremy a hell of a lot, and Jack, too. Everyone else is debatable.

The point, then, is that Trevor mostly trusts Geoff. And definitely Jack. Or, well, he did before this fucking elevator _bullshit._

#

Trevor waits to ask about it until he and Geoff are in position. “In position” is nowhere nearly as safe as inside the elevator - no, that’d be what a regular fucking person does to get down an elevator shaft. No, “in position” is with both of them in rappelling gear, clinging for dear life to the bottom of an elevator.

“So, don’t take this the wrong way,” Trevor says as he fixes his rappelling anchor to the bottom of the elevator. “But what’s up with this fucking elevator bullshit?”

Geoff, also fixing his anchor to the elevator, shoots him a strange look. “Uh, how else were we going to get to the bottom of the elevator shaft?”

“Well, actually _in_ the elevator, but that’s not the point. Aren’t you red-flagged? I thought Jack took you off the job.”

“Oh, that!” Geoff shoots Trevor a smug look. “We staged it.”

“You staged it,” Trevor repeats. Son of a bitch, he actually doesn’t know how to feel about that. They finally caught him off guard.

“Yeah, it was totally fake. I mean, I’m actually red-flagged, but I had my own part to play.” Geoff, now firmly anchored, glances at Trevor. “It was Ryan’s idea, actually. Jack and I know a couple of people in Willems’s corporate business, so I approached them, tried to say I wanted to make amends, lied out my ass. They’re part of how we get out of here. You did a good job getting here, though.”

“Thanks,” Trevor says, and he’s surprised by how much he means it. “But you weren’t watching.”

Geoff shrugs - or at least, shrugs as much as he can while hanging onto an elevator’s undercarriage when losing his grip means plummeting to a probably-painful death and triggering a fuckton of infrared sensors. “You got here, didn’t you? Means you did something right. Do me a favor, I don’t have an earpiece, say we’re ready.”

“Matt, we’re good for the drop,” Trevor says.

“Michael, whenever you’re ready,” Matt says. Trevor can almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Remember, don’t drop for five seconds,” Michael says. “Good luck, gentlemen. Count to five.”

Trevor takes a deep breath. _One, two…_

“You ever gone skydiving before?” Geoff says idly, cracking something. Glow sticks, apparently.

“Nope,” Trevor answers. “You?”

“Nah. I think we’re about to die,” Geoff says. Trevor glances down in time to see all of the infrared sensors flicker off. Geoff drops the glow sticks. “Let’s go.”

“Fuck me,” Trevor says, and lets go.

It’s not like skydiving - at least, he assumes it’s not. For one thing, he’s harnessed pretty firmly to the elevator; for another, Geoff is falling next to him. And Geoff is loud.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh _fuck,_ ” Geoff yelps, just as their cords reach full length. They both spring to a stop, so fast that Trevor damn near gets whiplash, and it’s just the two of them swinging five feet from the concrete.

“Not a fan of heights?” Trevor says as he wriggles around. He has a butterfly knife in his pocket, small but wicked sharp, and he slashes through his rope. He drops the last five feet, and Trevor lands almost squarely on his face.

A second later, Geoff thuds down next to him. “Not a fan of almost dying, asshole,” he says, muffled by the concrete. Trevor rolls over just in time to see the cords finish receding back up to the harnesses, and a second later the infrared sensors flicker back to life.

Trevor climbs to his feet as carefully as possible. There are no infrared sensors anywhere near them - or, thank god, near the elevator doors. “I think we made it,” he says cautiously.

“Knock on wood, rookie,” Geoff says, also staggering to his feet. “Never say you made it till you’re out with the money.”

“Yeah, okay,” Trevor mutters. “Do you have the gas pellets?”

Geoff reaches into his pocket and pulls out two pellets, courtesy of Lindsay. Trevor knows the plan: on the other side of this elevator, there are three guards between them and the antechamber door to the vault. All they need to do is knock out the guards.

“You get the doors, I’ll throw them,” Geoff offers. Trevor nods and goes to the doors. He’s never forced elevator doors before, but these ones don’t seem too strong.

He tests them, carefully opening them a couple inches, and glances back at Geoff. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Three,” Geoff says, and snaps both pellets in quick succession. “Two, one.”

Trevor opens the doors, and Geoff tosses the pellets through. They slide across the floor, and Trevor lets the doors shut. Lindsay had said that from this far away the gas shouldn’t affect them if the doors are open, but that’s not really a chance he wants to take right now.

There’s one thud, then another, and a third. Geoff glances at Trevor. “After you.”

“Thanks,” Trevor says, and opens the door. All three guards are passed out on the floor, and he clambers out of the elevator. He can hear Geoff scramble up behind him, and together they stop in front of the antechamber door.

“Got the code?” Geoff says. He’s so casual that Trevor has to wonder what the fuck he’s stolen before. If millions of dollars in a casino doesn’t faze him, what possibly could?

Trevor steps forward and pulls the code sheet out of his pocket. “Let’s get this show on the road.” He punches the code in, and the antechamber door slides open.

The vault door is terrifying.

That’s his first thought, followed by _holy fuck, Jeremy is in there._ The door is sleek, immense, intimidating, the kind of thing that’s probably supposed to scream _don’t you dare open me, you motherfucker._ Trevor doesn’t think he could ever work here; he’d be too scared to open this door.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, almost in awe. This is what’s between him and a quarter of a billion dollars.

“Jesus fucking Christ wants us to steal this money,” Geoff says, and strides past him with total confidence. He lifts one hand and smacks the door, hard, open-palmed.

It takes twelve seconds - not that Trevor counts or anything - but from inside the vault, another slap rings out. Jeremy.

“Let’s go,” Geoff says, and pulls out a detonator. He fixes it to the door as Trevor goes over to punch the code in. Geoff looks at him strangely. “We don’t need the code, we’re blowing it up with Kdin’s fake jewels, remember?”

Trevor remembers. Lindsay had airbrushed the fuck out of her mini-explosives, practically cooing over them. The orange one, gaudy Funhaus colors, is going to be the one that Jeremy puts in the middle of the door and puts the detonator receiver on. Geoff had been almost maniacal with glee at the thought of it.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he explains. “I stole the codes, I want to use them.”

“You’re a weird kid, Treyco,” Geoff says, but finishes attaching the wires to the door just as two hits ring out from inside the vault. Geoff lifts a hand and slaps the door twice. “Ready?”

“I’m not the one about to be in a vault with explosives,” Trevor points out. Geoff is already looking at his watch, probably counting down the twenty seconds that Jeremy has to get the fuck out of dodge before Edwyna Harving’s fake gemstones kill him. “Should I cover my ears?”

“If it’ll make you feel better,” Geoff says distractedly. “You have thirteen seconds and counting to make up your mind. Ten.”

“I can count,” Trevor mutters, and claps hands over his ears.

He can still hear Geoff say “fucking amateur,” but that’s fine, because he can also hear the explosions through his hands. He’s pretty sure he’s totally fucking justified in wanting to cover his ears.

Geoff looks totally unbothered, somehow, and looks calmly over at Trevor as he lowers his hands. “You wanna do the honors, Treyco?”

“Nah, it’s your heist,” Trevor says. “You go for it.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” Geoff says, but Trevor isn’t fooled. This is the moment of truth. If the door can’t open, well. Not getting paid is the least of Trevor’s problems.

Geoff steps forward once, twice, grabs the handle of the vault. His hands aren’t shaking, which is probably more than Trevor would be able to say.

“Here goes,” Geoff says, and pulls the door open.

The vault is deadly quiet. Some of the shelves are collapsed, poker chips are scattered across the floor, and Kdin’s briefcase is lying in the corner of the room. The only motion is the smoke wafting through the air.

“Lil J?” Trevor says, heart suddenly pounding. They gave him the full twenty seconds, and he’s acrobatic enough that he should’ve been able to get across the room, but-

“Fucking _finally,_ ” Jeremy’s voice says, and Trevor doesn’t even have time for the relief to fully hit him before Jeremy is popping up from behind the cash carts. He looks positively giddy. “Look at all this fucking money.”

“We’re rich,” Trevor says, a little bit wonderstruck. He hasn’t been able to say that before. “Oh my god.”

“Not yet,” Geoff reminds him. “We’re not done, we need to get the cash out of the carts. Get going, we don’t have all night.”

“We actually probably have fifteen minutes,” Jeremy mutters.

“Then move like you only have fifteen minutes to steal this money,” Geoff says, and with that they all start towards the carts.

The first stack of bills that Trevor pulls out is, in all likelihood, more money than he’s ever held in his hand at one time. It’s a death sentence to call this job a done deal, especially before it’s done, but he can’t help but be exhilarated.

Jeremy meets Trevor’s eyes over the carts and, eyes sparkling, mouths _we did it._ Trevor smiles back at him. Even if they get caught now, he’s mostly okay going to prison as the most successful casino robber in Las Vegas history. All they have to do is not get caught.


	5. Chapter 5

They’re out of the arena, halfway to the security center, when Bruce says “Adam, your phone’s ringing.”

The fight was, in Adam’s not-a-UFC-fan opinion, a total fucking disaster. Of course, that’s less because of the fight itself and more because right at the beginning of the fight, the power had gone out. Outages in Vegas are rare; outages on the Strip are unheard of. James was seething from the moment the lights came back on, and Elyse had jumped into work mode instantly, fielding dozens of radio calls from security.

It’s somehow worse because Adam knows that James was excited for the fight. Elyse was, too, and even he and Bruce had been caught up in the enthusiasm. It wasn’t just a business opportunity, it was a time for them to kick back and watch something they’d been looking forward to. And it all went to shit.

Elyse pauses in her steady stream of walkie-talkie talk to glance at Adam. “You should answer that.”

Adam frowns. Now that they’ve pointed it out, there’s very clearly a phone going off in his pocket. But the ringtone is wrong, and when he goes fishing for it, it feels wrong. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s an iPhone, not his Android.

He stops moving in the middle of the casino floor. “I left my phone in Elyse’s office to charge.”

James pauses long enough to frown at him. “Then whose is it?”

“I don’t know,” Adam says, but he realizes his heart is pounding. There are coincidences and then there are suspicious things happening too close together, and he knows which one this is. He fumbles the phone out of his pocket and answers the call. “Funhaus Entertainment, this is Adam.”

“Hello, Mr. Kovic,” a smooth voice says on the other end. It’s calm. It’s familiar, in a vague way. It makes the hair stand up on the back of Adam’s neck. “May I speak to Mr. Willems?”

“Uh.” Adam’s eyes dart between Bruce, James, and Elyse, who are now standing still staring at him. “Sure?”

“Thank you,” the voice says.

Adam slowly holds the phone out to James. “It’s for you.”

James snatches it from Adam’s hand. “Who is this?”

There’s a pause, just a few seconds, but it’s long enough for the blood to drain from James’s face.

“James?” Elyse touches his shoulder. “What is it?”

“We need to get to security right now,” James says, and starts towards the security hall. Elyse follows him immediately.

Bruce shoots Adam a glance and mouths _what the hell?_ Adam can only shrug, and together they set off after James.

“What’s going on?” Bruce demands, as soon as they’re close enough to James and Elyse. “James, who is it?”

James’s face is drawn as they stop in front of the security hall. He reaches for his pocket, fingers so tense that he can’t get to his keycard; Elyse reaches for hers instead and swipes the door open.

“James,” Adam says quietly.

“She says she’s the woman who’s robbing us,” James says through gritted teeth, and takes off running.

“Well, fuck,” Elyse says, remarkably calm, before the three of them break into a run after him.

#

Adam hasn’t always been an art gallery curator. He fell into it accidentally, just like he fell into his last job accidentally. And by “job” he means stealing things. He’d been good at it, too; he and Bruce both had. Bruce made the plans, Adam stole whatever they needed, and they made a living. They did it for years, and they stole a lot of shit.

And then came Van Gogh.

They tried to steal some paintings with a couple of partners, people they’d worked with dozens of times before, and it went south, fast. Adam doesn’t like thinking about it, and he and Bruce don’t talk about it. One of the partners went to prison, one of them cut all ties with them, and to this day Adam can’t think about the third guy without wanting to put his fist through a wall.

He’ll never forget the helplessness, afterwards: him and Bruce, two paintings and three friends poorer but a couple million dollars richer, sitting on a shitty couch in a shitty motel. “We can’t do it again,” Bruce said, and when Adam nodded, he said, “I know somewhere we can crash. I have this friend, she’ll let us stay with her for a while.”

Bruce’s friend turned out to be Elyse, a probable mobster married to a casino owner. She’d let them stay with her and her husband, and what’s more, she found jobs for them. It turned out that years of stealing art meant that Adam had a good eye for it, and within a couple of weeks of meeting Elyse he was starting at the gallery in the Paradise. He never knew how to thank her for that. He still doesn’t.

The point is, Adam did some bad shit, but he’s done. He’s perfectly content staring at paintings and thinking about tranquility and curating exhibits, and he knows Bruce is happy doing business analysis for Funhaus. They were happier when they could just leave that theft shit in the past.

They were happier before Geoff fucking Ramsey showed up twice in one week.

#

“Show me the vault,” James says as soon as they’re in the security center. “Now.”

The head guard punches a few buttons and pulls up the feed of the vault. “All clear, sir.”

James lowers the phone and puts it on speaker; Elyse steps closer immediately. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” James says lightly. Adam can hear the rage, boiling below the surface.

“I’m assuming you’re watching your monitor,” the same calm voice says. Adam glances at Bruce in time to see his eyebrows furrow, and he can’t fight down a frown. That must mean Bruce recognizes her too. “Keep watching.”

Adam turns to the central monitor. The vault is calm, motionless, and then the picture flickers and changes.

“Oh, _shit,_ ” Bruce says, and the guards all burst into action.

Adam stares. In the hall outside the vault, there are three guards, knocked out and tied up. The vault itself is a mess: the carts are dented and on the floor, there’s smoke in the air, and there are three masked people throwing the money into bags.

“Elyse, how much,” James says, voice even calmer than before.

“At least 260 million,” Elyse says tremulously. “How the fuck-”

“That’s not important, Mrs. Willems,” the voice says. It’s not quite as bland as it was before; there’s a smug edge to it now. Adam frowns. He knows her. It’s just outside his memory, but he knows her. “What’s important is what comes next.”

“What comes next is that I find you,” James says. Adam has never heard him so angry, and judging by the worried look Bruce shoots him, neither has he. “You and everyone in that vault and everyone who had any part at all in this, and I fucking gut you all.”

“Oh, Mr. Willems,” the voice sighs. “If only it were that easy for you.”

Adam knows the voice.

“Bruce,” he says quietly without looking away from the monitor. “Who do we know who’s stupid enough to rob a casino, and who do we know who’s smart enough to help him?”

There’s a pause for a few seconds while Bruce processes this, and then he sighs. “She wouldn’t.”

“I think we both know she would,” Adam says grimly. “I’ll go find her.”

Bruce squeezes his shoulder. “Tell her to go fuck herself.”

“Adam,” Elyse says. When he looks at her, she unclips her walkie-talkie and holds it out. “In case you need it.”

“Thank you,” Adam says. He takes it and clips it to his own belt. “Here’s hoping I’m wrong.”

“You’re not,” Bruce says. Adam ignores him as he leaves.

Four years is a long time, but it’s funny, the things that stick with you when you don’t expect it. He might not remember the exact shade of her hair, but he remembers her favorite whiskey. And he knows which bar she’ll be at.

More importantly, he knows her. He knows that she wouldn’t rob a casino without a reason, and while he thinks that he and Bruce are James’s best-kept secret, they’re still easy to find. If she’s here, it’s because of them. All he has to do is give her a reason to leave.

Adam can hear her voice filtering through the air before he sees her, just as relaxed and confident as she always was. “The other half of your money, the stuff that we’re not putting in bags? It’s rigged with explosives. Think of it as our hostage.”

He sees her shirt first. It’s just as garish as the ones she used to wear. She’s sitting at the counter, phone in one hand, glass of whiskey in the other. “You let us take our hundred and thirty million dollars, we leave you the other half. It’s still a good night’s profit for you, and for us. Nobody has to get hurt.”

“Jack,” Adam says, and he’s proud of how not-strangled his voice is.

Jack spins around on her stool and sips her whiskey. She meets Adam’s eyes and doesn’t waver. “You can still come out of this night a rich man, Mr. Willems, if you play your cards right. I’ll leave that up to you.” And with that she lowers her phone and smiles coolly. “Adam. It’s been a while.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Adam demands.

“My job, same as ever.

“Where’s Geoff?”

Jack’s eyes go stony. “Texas state prison, last I heard. I’ve had some time to think, Adam, and I’m pretty sure you and Bruce sold us up the river.”

Adam shakes his head. This is the best chance he’ll ever have to make this right, and maybe it’ll work. “Jack, that wasn’t us.”

“Then who was it?”

“Skistmas,” he says, and closes his eyes just as the shock registers on her face. “It was- it was fucking _stupid,_ not telling you, but Bruce consulted with him for some of the security measures. He knew what night we were going in, we thought we could trust him. And then when it went south it took us months to realize it must’ve been him, but - it was, Jack, we wouldn’t do that to you.”

Adam opens his eyes. Jack is staring at him misty-eyed; he doesn’t know what it means.

“Craig,” she says softly. “Where is he now?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s still out there, but Elyse put a mafia hit on his gang.”

“Using her powers for good?” Jack smirks at him, wryly, and Adam can feel hope lifting in his chest. She’s smiling, that means if this is a revenge hit then they can stop with the revenge, and that means James and Elyse won’t have to lose millions.

“You have a deal,” James says from the phone.

Jack’s smile turns genuine, and she lifts the phone back up. “Excellent. I just need one moment, and then I’ll instruct you what to do with the money.”

Adam’s jaw drops. _No, no, no, no, no-_

“It wasn’t about you and Bruce,” Jack says, almost sympathetically. “It’s about wanting a challenge, and wanting some money, and paying some people who worked very hard to make this happen. Someone took a red-eye in from Russia for this job. Lives are on the line here, we can’t give it up now.”

“Jack,” Adam says faintly. “You can’t-”

“I didn’t expect you to say it was Craig, though,” she muses, and takes another sip of whiskey. “That’s good to know, thank you for that. I’ll make sure that fuck gets what’s coming to him.”

“James and Elyse are good people, they have employees, you’re ruining people’s _jobs-_ ”

“And you ruined my best friend’s life,” Jack says. And with that she’s closed off again, Adam can feel it, a chill in the air. She lifts her chin, just slightly. “ You put him at risk- you put _me_ at risk the second you involved someone else in our plans without telling us. I can put up with a lot of shit from you, but not that.”

“Jack-”

“You can give them my name, if you haven’t already. It’s not personal, Adam, it’s business. Give Bruce my regards.”

Jack downs the rest of her whiskey and slides off the stool. Adam can’t move. He knows he should say something, stop her, radio Elyse, but he can’t. He can’t turn to watch her go, he can’t even think straight, god, how could she do this? He and Bruce knew her and Geoff when they were still trying to make a name for themselves, and now here they are, on opposite sides of this battle. And now here she is, ruining one of Adam’s best friend’s lives.

“Jesus fuck,” he murmurs, and all but sprints back to the security center. Maybe if he moves fast enough they can get a guard at the door before she’s gone. Maybe, maybe, maybe-

#

Adam only saw Craig one more time, about a year and a half after Geoff went to prison. It’d been nothing but chance, Craig stumbling upon the cafe where Adam was researching art history courses he could take online. He hadn’t even noticed until Craig sat down across from him, sipping a coffee and looking profoundly smug.

“Geoff went to jail because of you,” Adam said, too stunned to say anything else.

“Geoff went to jail because he broke the law,” Craig corrected him. “I’m just an upstanding citizen who called the police because I saw suspicious activity at the museum.”

“Did you get a reward?”

Craig shrugged. “Estimated their response time. Me and my boys hit the same museum a couple months later, got a much better take.”

“Fuck you,” Adam said, can’t help how much he goddamn _means_ it. “You ruined someone’s life.”

“Did I?”

Adam stared at him. Craig just grinned. “What are you gonna do, Kovic, call the police?”

“Put a mafia hit on you,” he said, and hoped Elyse actually would if he asked.

“Suit yourself,” Craig said. “I have a contact in Ile-de-France who’s expecting me tomorrow. I’ll be a little late, she’ll put up with it, and you’ll never see me again.”

“Yeah, that’s the goal of mafia hits,” Adam said.

Craig got to his feet. “Have a good life, Adam,” he said, and swaggered off out of the coffee shop.

Adam’s pretty sure if he sees Craig again he’ll put a fist through his skull, or Bruce will. Maybe Elyse. All he knows is that James found a way to monitor air traffic to Ile-de-France for the next two days. Craig never showed. Adam hopes that if they find him it’ll be in either an obituary or a body bag.

#

“I found her,” he says, as soon as he’s through the door to security. James is still gripping the iPhone, shoulders rigid; off to one side, Elyse is on her own phone. Only Bruce comes to meet him, and Adam looks at him desperately. “She was in the bar, she-”

“We found her on the cameras,” Bruce says, voice hushed, and Adam can feel the dread settle over him, cool and heavy and a little nauseating. “And then we lost her in the crowd. We’re not sure where she is.”

“Goddammit,” Adam says. His mouth is dry. He can still hear her voice, realizes a little belatedly it’s coming from James’s phone. “Shit. I tried telling her about Craig-”

“Adam,” Bruce says gently. He rests his hands on Adam’s shoulders. It’s oddly intimate, this quiet moment in the middle of a crisis, and he almost feels guilty for it. But only almost. “Jack Pattillo is a force of fucking nature. You couldn’t stop her if you tried.”

“I tried,” Adam says. He hates how small his voice sounds.

“Thank you for trying,” Bruce says, simple and sincere. “Come on, let’s figure out what’s going on so we can see if we can help.”

Adam can’t help. Not like Bruce can, at least. Bruce is involved in the business side of things, Adam just works in the gallery. But he still follows Bruce back towards James and tries to focus on the monitors. “What’d I miss?”

Bruce points at the monitor displaying elevator shaft, where there are six marked duffle bags. “Half of the money is in the vault, rigged with explosives. Those bags have the other half, also rigged. We have six guards who are going to get them, take them through the casino, and put them in a van waiting at the valet station.”

Adam glances around the cameras and sees the six guards heading towards the cash cages. “Can they switch the bags?”

“Switching anything with explosives involved in a crowded casino is a bad idea, we think.”

“SWAT team’s on their way,” Elyse says, pocketing her phone. “And I’ve told all the important people, they know to be on the lookout.”

Adam’s not sure if “the important people” mean her friends, her employees, or her probable ties to the mafia, but he’s willing to accept it. “So they’re just going to drive away with the money?”

“And we’ve got three dozen security officers ready to follow them,” Elyse says, quiet but grim. “I’m going with them.”

“Be careful,” Bruce says, and Adam murmurs the same, heart in his throat.

Elyse glances at James. “I’ll see you in a bit,” she says.

James lowers the phone immediately. “Stay safe,” he says, and leans in to kiss her. It’s quick, it’s sweet, and Elyse is gone within seconds.

“Touching,” Jack says from the other end of the phone. “I’m afraid that I don’t have the same view as you, I could use a progress update.”

“The van is loaded,” James says. It’s true; when Adam glances up at the screen he sees the guards slam the doors shut. “Now, Ms. Pattillo, I have one request for you.”

“Oh, good, real names,” Jack says blandly. “What can I do for you, Mr. Willems?”

James lifts the phone back to his ear. “Run,” he says calmly. “Run as far and as fast as you can. After everything you’ve done I will be extremely disappointed if I catch you or any of your team blowing all your money on a fucking Bugatti. Because I’ll have people after you, and when they catch you, they won’t take you to the police.”

He pockets the phone. The van drives away. Adam is, for a handful of seconds, afraid.

Then James’s walkie bursts into static, and he unclips it. “We’re in pursuit,” Elyse says. On the screen, a silver sedan peels smoothly out of the parking garage and starts after the van.

“How’s SWAT?” James says, just as the SWAT van pulls up in front of the casino. “Do we actually trust local Vegas officers to have a good SWAT team?”

Bruce snorts. “I can go liaise with them, if you want. Make sure they’re not total fucking idiots.”

“Yeah,” James says, “take a radio with you.”

As if on cue, one of the security officers holds a walkie out. Bruce takes it and looks seriously at James. “We’re gonna get your money back.”

“I’d prefer if it never left,” James says, but his eyes seem a little lighter. “Keep me posted.”

“Will do.” Bruce brushes shoulders with Adam on his way out, and then the room is too empty. Just him and James and all of the fear and frustration in the world.

Adam glances at the vault for the first time and frowns. “They’re still in the vault.”

“Yes, I know they’re still in the vault,” James snaps. “With half of our fucking money.”

Adam shakes his head slowly. “They’re not stupid.”

“Stupid enough to rob a casino.”

“But smart enough to get in the vault, and probably smart enough to realize that we’re going to call the police.”

James looks at Adam sideways. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not sure,” he admits. Half of the money is still booby trapped, and there are three people in the vault, pacing back and forth. They don’t look too concerned. “But they got in there. So what’s their plan for getting out?”

James opens his mouth to answer, but before he has the chance, the walkie crackles back to life. “SWAT is ready to go,” Bruce says. “I’ve got one of their radios here, I’ll monitor them.”

“Thank you,” James says. “Do they need anything?”

“Yeah, they want to rappel down the elevator so the robbers can’t hear it coming.”

James glances at an officer. “Shut off the motion sensors. Bruce, tell them they have two minutes.”

“Copy that,” Bruce says.

There are half a dozen SWAT officers. Adam watches them move through the casino, with their big fucking guns and their equipment bags. He doesn’t know a lot about the police force, but these guys seem like they know what they’re doing.

“Where’d the phone come from?” James says abruptly.

Adam looks away from the officers, preparing to rappel. “Phone?”

“The one in your pocket. What could’ve gotten it there?”

“I don’t know.” Adam frowns, tries to replay the day in his head. The fight was chaotic enough that someone could’ve slipped it in his pocket then and he wouldn’t have noticed, but he doesn’t think that was it. The only unusual thing that happened was-

“Oh, fuck, it was Geoff,” he says. He wants to hit himself. God, of course it was Geoff. He’d come by before dinner, acting a little drunk, saying he just wanted to say goodbye. He’d insisted on giving both Adam and Bruce dramatic hugs before telling them to go fuck themselves.

“Ramsey?” James says incredulously.

“Had to be,” Adam murmurs. “Fuck. I didn’t know-”

“You couldn’t have known,” James says, almost dismissively, and Adam doesn’t know why, but he’s intensely grateful for it. It’s not that any of this is his fault, but he kind of feels like shit for being the one to carry the phone that sparked all of this. At least James doesn’t seem upset with him. He needs that right now.

He looks back at the monitor just as the SWAT team gets into formation. James lifts his walkie to his mouth. “Bruce?”

“Cut the power in five,” Bruce says.

James lifts five fingers and counts down, one of the officers throws the switch, and the sinking feeling in Adam’s stomach turns into an anchor. This is wrong. He can’t say how, or why, but what’s going on shouldn’t be going on. There’s nothing to do but watch and wait, and he stares at the black vault screen with his heart in his throat. This is wrong, this is wrong, this-

“Lights, we need lights,” Bruce says, suddenly frantic. The same officer flicks the lights back on, and James starts spewing curses.

Adam stares. The vault is smoky, impossible to see inside, and two officers force their way inside. Others are with the vault guards, probably trying to wake them up. It’s a mess. He can’t see the money.

“Does the vault intercom still work?” James says, glancing at an officer, who nods. He goes to that panel and hits a button. “SWAT, what the hell’s going on in there?”

“They blew it,” a voice says, although Adam can’t assign it to one of the figures on screen. “Jesus fucking Christ, they blew the whole thing. There’s no way they got out of there.”

James glances at Adam, brows furrowed. “You know Pattillo better than I do. What would she do?”

“She’d have an escape route,” Adam says, but he realizes suddenly that he’s not as confident as before. It’s been four years. Even if Jack isn’t sloppy by now, Geoff has to be. “I mean. Isn’t that just logical?”

“Logic went out the window a while ago,” James says, and switches back to his walkie. “Elyse, where are you?”

“Almost at McCarran Airport,” Elyse says. “We’ve got four cars, the van is parked, no movement yet.”

“Take it when you can.”

“That’d be right now. I’ll check in when we’re done.”

“Stay safe,” James says. “Bruce, what does SWAT say?”

“SWAT says get down to the vault, if you can,” Bruce says grimly. “Can you?”

James glances at Adam. “Get a walkie.”

An officer holds out another walkie-talkie, and Adam takes it. “I’ll let you know if anything interesting happens.”

“Thank you,” James says, and leaves the center.

“This is a fucking shitstorm,” the officer who handed Adam the walkie says, rather calmly.

“Yeah,” Adam mumbles, looking at the walkie in his hand. “Some fucking next-level shit.”

“I mean, first that lady dies in here earlier, now this-”

“Dies?” Adam repeats sharply. James and Elyse hadn’t mentioned that, and he can’t imagine them not knowing. “Who died?”

“No one important, just some lady who was trying to keep something in the vault overnight.” The officer shrugs. “She just keeled over and died. Mrs. Willems was there. Paramedics were too late. The lead doctor was real nice, this chubby redheaded lady.”

Chubby redheaded lady. _Jack._

Adam’s heart is pounding as he lifts the walkie. “James, was someone keeping their personal property in the vault overnight?”

“We had a guest request it, why-”

“Did you know she died?”

“She _what?_ ”

“Adam, what are you talking about?” Bruce demands.

“Listen, maybe I’m making things up,” Adam says, even though he’s not, he’s sure of it. “But what are the odds that we get robbed the one day we allow a guest to store a personal item in the vault, and then that guest dies and the lead paramedic happens to fit Jack’s description?”

James sighs. “Adam, I know this situation is a lot to handle, believe you me. But what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. How would she have answered a 911 call?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never had to deal with the tech side of this before, but-”

“Actually,” Bruce says slowly, “it’s not impossible. I can’t say what it was just now, but it could’ve been something.”

“Then tell me once you figure it out,” James says. “I need a minute to talk to the SWAT team, don’t talk to me unless you’re Elyse.”

“Copy that,” Adam says, and glances around. God, but he’s tired. “Hey, not that this is a top priority or anything, but is there an extra chair that I could sit in?”

“Of course, Mr. Kovic,” one of the officers says, and takes Adam’s elbow. He stumbles along, a little dazedly, and lets the officer sit him in front of one of the monitors. He can still see the vault, with the smoke clearing, with James and an officer heading towards it. Out front, there’s Bruce, waiting by the SWAT team truck. Nothing is out of the ordinary.

“James,” Elyse says through the walkie. Adam startles so badly he nearly drops it.

“Elyse,” James says, relieved. On the monitor, James lowers his walkie and says something to the SWAT officer he’s talking to. The officer nods and starts gesturing at the other officers, and James lifts his handset again. “Tell me you have good news.”

“I was hoping you would,” Elyse admits. Adam’s eyes flick between the monitors: James’s shoulders slump, and Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to see this.

“The vault’s blown,” James says, voice tight. “Anything or anyone that was in here isn’t there anymore, and it isn’t worth jack fucking _shit._ ”

“God damn it,” Bruce mumbles.

“They blew the van too,” Elyse says, “but- only sort of?”

“How do you sort of blow something up?” Adam says, frowning.

“Oh, they blew it up,” she says. “But according to the one guy who got close enough to the driver’s seat, there wasn’t a driver in it. Just a camera and a remote driver.”

“Are you kidding me,” James says flatly.

“It gets worse.”

“That’s how this night has been going, yeah,” Bruce says. Adam snorts before he can help it. He opens his eyes long enough to see the SWAT team leaving the vault elevator, heading out of the casino. They all look somber, holding their equipment bags, walking in perfect sync.

Elyse makes a noise that might be laughter, but there’s no humor in it. “There was no money in the van.”

There’s a long minute of silence. Adam stares at the walkie as if it’ll tell him anything new. At last, James says flatly, “I’m sorry, I think I heard you wrong.”

“No, you heard me,” Elyse says, palpably frustrated. “It was just scraps of newspaper and flyers for fucking prostitutes, not a single dollar to be found.”

“What the fuck,” Adam mumbles. He stares blankly at the monitors. James looks defeated, there’s no other word for it. This won’t bankrupt him, not even close, but it’s going to be fucking _terrible_ for business. The last of the SWAT officers gets in their van; Bruce watches them from the valet station. He can almost imagine Elyse, standing in a parking lot off to one side, shoulders tense, surrounded by smoldering newspaper on the ground.

“Adam?” Bruce says suddenly.

“Yeah, Bruce?”

“You’re watching the cameras, how many SWAT members went in the vault?”

“Uh.” Adam glances at an officer. “Can we get a playback?”

The officer taps some keys, and the camera feed for the elevator appears. Adam frowns. “I’m counting… six? It looks like six.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve got the feed in front of me, that’s definitely six.” Adam turns to the security officer. “Are you getting six?”

“I’m getting six,” the officer confirms.

“Okay, this is going to sound crazy,” Bruce says tentatively. “How many SWAT members came out of the vault?”

“I’m going to guess six,” Adam says blandly.

“Eight,” James says suddenly. “There were eight.”

“I counted eight in the van,” Bruce says.

The security officer is pulling up the video before Adam has the chance to ask. The elevator switches, and Adam doesn’t even have to count to realize that it’s more cramped in there. There are more people coming up than there were going down. “Holy shit.”

“Bruce?” Elyse says, alarmed. “How could there be more people?”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t make any sense,” Bruce says, a panicked edge to his voice. “They blew the vault, there was no one left-”

“They blew _a_ vault,” James says. “Adam, can you see what’s on the vault floor?”

Adam leans forward towards the monitor, squinting as he does. “The Funhaus Entertainment logo?”

“Is it on the floor in the robbery?”

The officer cues the video. Adam slumps back in his seat. “No, it’s not.”

Bruce begins swearing a blue streak. Elyse ignores him to say, “What does that mean?”

“It means,” James says, strained, “that that video didn’t happen in here. The logo was installed on Wednesday night. That’s not our vault. That’s a replica.”

“A replica?” Adam repeats.

“They built a second fucking vault,” Bruce says, practically spitting venom. “They practiced in it, they filmed in it, they fucking tricked us.”

Adam stares at the screen. Other than the logo, the replica is exact. The shelves are right, the walls are the right shade of eggshell-white, everything is perfect. He understands why it tricked them. Jack is good, and whoever her team is, they’re fucking good too. He wouldn’t be surprised if Geoff was involved, and he can think of a few other people who could’ve been, too. They planned this out, and they planned it well.

“So,” Elyse says, voice heavy, “the money wasn’t in the van-”

“-and it’s not in the vault,” James adds.

Bruce sighs. “And the SWAT team magically gained two members, which begs the question...”

Adam stares up at the screens. “What happened?”


	6. Chapter 6

“I think you’re the most important person on this team,” Gavin announces.

Matt doesn’t look up from his laptop. He shouldn’t, so he doesn’t miss any important timing. He does, however, shake his head. “You’d be fine without me.”

“We wouldn’t,” Gavin says firmly. “We’d be guessing at everything.”

Matt smiles as slightly as possible. His eyes flick across all of the screens. Jack, dressed as a paramedic, is talking to Elyse outside the security center. Ryan and Lindsay are wheeling Kdin on a gurney to an in-house clinic, which was mostly an empty room. Steffie had suggested it as a place to camp out until Kdin wakes up. (Matt glances at the clinic camera, just in case; it’s all clear.)

Trevor is climbing out of the elevator, not that the guards can tell. Matt had fed some footage of the empty elevator to the security center. As far as they know, their vault and elevator are safe. He can only assume that Geoff is close by. It’d been nerve-wracking when the guards took him to a room without cameras, but Geoff is enough of a professional that Matt trusts him to get out.

“You could find another guy to handle the cameras,” Matt says dismissively. “My job isn’t that special, not like you.”

“My job?” Gavin scoffs. “I paid for everything, that’s not a job _._ ”

“Your job is deflecting attention,” Matt says. He looks up for the first time; Gavin is standing behind the couch, suited up and straightening his tie. “You’d better get your ass down there now, before Willems notices you’re not at the fight.”

“He’s not looking for me,” Gavin mutters. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re a young multimillionaire going to a UFC fight,” Matt says blandly. “You’re fine, Gavin, have fun.”

“Fights aren’t fun. My hair’s okay?”

Matt rolls his eyes and glances back at the screens, just long enough to be sure everything is okay. Trevor’s gone, Jack is making her exit, Caleb is sneaking back in the casino, and Lindsay and Ryan are unpacking their next costume change from their EMT outfits. All as planned.

“Duck down,” he says, and Gavin does obediently. Matt swipes one hand through Gavin’s hair, sweeping it back. “Go appear presentable.”

Gavin grins. “See you in a bit, Matt,” he says cheerfully, and heads out.

As soon as Gavin is out the door, Matt sets his laptop on the couch next to him and stands up. He feels one of his knees pop, and as he stretches his arms up he realizes just how goddamn _sore_ he is. He doesn’t get a lot of chances to move around, and he only has a minute or so now.

The thing is, Gavin wasn’t entirely wrong when he said Matt was important, but that’s only because Matt made himself important. He’s met other hackers, people who are way better than him, but they don’t give a fuck about their team. They don’t do things like check the cameras to know where everyone is. Matt’s always going to check. If he has the power to keep his people from getting hurt, why wouldn’t he use that power? The only problem is that it requires a lot of vigilance, which requires a lot of sitting still. More than even Matt wants.

It’s worth it, though. It’s completely worth it because when he sits back down, he knows everything in the casino. He can see Lindsay and Ryan half-changed, Kdin propped sitting up against a wall, Caleb at one elevator, Jack walking a circuit on the floor. He can see Gavin, almost at the entrance to the arena. It’s worth some sore muscles to be sure of everything, especially when he can get himself one hell of a nice massage after this job.

A light pings on Matt’s laptop, and he picks up his headset and puts it on.

“Matt, we’re good for the drop,” Trevor says. His voice is echoing, and Matt really hopes that “we” includes Geoff.

Matt smiles to himself, taps a key, and sends an alert to Michael’s earpiece, just a soft beep that’ll make sure he’s listening. Michael is the only one not on the casino grounds - he also has, in Matt’s opinion, one of the more important jobs of the night. If this doesn’t work, they’re sort of boned.

“Michael, whenever you’re ready,” Matt says.

“Remember, don’t drop for five seconds,” Michael says. “Good luck, gentlemen. Count to five.”

Presumably, somewhere out there, Michael flips a switch, and the suite goes dark.

Matt takes the opportunity to double-check Jack and Caleb’s positions, where they’re frozen on the cameras. Jack is near a cluster of vampire-themed slot machines, and Caleb is getting out of the elevator, probably almost at the door to the suite.

Thirty seconds later, the lights flick back on, and the door unlocks with a click. “How’s it going?” Caleb asks as they come to sit down next to Matt.

“So far, so good,” Matt murmurs. Kdin is on her feet, which is what he’s most worried about, other than the vault itself. Kdin’s briefcase on top of Jeremy’s cart had really fucked them, but Jeremy’s good. Matt’s seen him in worse situations. He’s going to be fine.

“I’m going to go get changed,” Caleb says. “But, Matt, what are you going to do?”

Matt glances at them. “Uh, sit here? Same as always?”

“You can’t be here when the SWAT team gets here, you know that.”

“I can’t be mobile until they get here. Gavin’s going to escort me out.”

Caleb raises their eyebrows. “Gavin. Really.”

“He’s my chauffeur.”

“He’s not licensed.”

“He’s a safe driver, don’t worry about me.” Matt looks back at the screen. Gavin is barely in the doors for the fight, and there are no security cameras in the arena, but he can still guess that Gavin’s being as obnoxious as possible about his fashionable lateness. Jeremy is out of the cart, thank god, and Trevor and Geoff are approaching the antechamber. “Man, we did a good job, didn’t we?”

“Didn’t Jack,” Caleb corrects him, getting to their feet. “It’s her world and we’re all just living in it.”

“Probably,” Matt says, mulling that over. Jack has done more for the heist than anyone. Hell, he was with her when she laid most of the ground work, but she still did way more planning than him. “I think Kdin wants to give Jack a cut of her cash.”

“I might too,” Caleb admits. “She’s put up with _way_ too much shit to get paid the same as everyone else.”

“Do you think Geoff’ll like that?”

“I think if we tell him, he’ll give her every cent.”

“Then I’m gonna tell him.”

Caleb’s laugh floats out behind them as they close the door to Kdin’s room. Matt looks between the screens again, sits back, and waits for the explosion.

#

Matt met Gavin by accident, but he befriended him on purpose. You don’t often find people with a moral code in illegal businesses, but anyone who supports “don’t shoot innocents” is a guy worth keeping around. Besides that, he’s easy to work with. Matt’s modus operandi for jobs is pretty consistent: become essential. Become indispensable. If he finds the right people - good people, like Jack and Gavin - he’ll never be wanting for work again. If he’s an essential employee to a guy with morals, then he’s doing his job right.

The other thing is that he knows more about Gavin than nearly anyone else in this business. He’s one of the select few who has met Meg - more than once, even. Gavin asks him to check up on her sometimes when she’s abroad. He doesn’t know that she asks the same of Matt, now and again.

What this all sums up to is this: Matt is good at his job. He’s really fucking good at his job. He’s also important to Gavin both personally and professionally and he’s completely unafraid to leverage that for work, from time to time. Robbing a casino was probably the strangest idea Gavin had come to him with, but it certainly wasn’t the first.

(“You can say no,” Gavin said, as soon as he was done explaining the idea. “If you don’t think you can-”

“How much field work will I be doing?”

“Almost none. You’ll need to get into their cameras, probably.”

And, well. Matt was between jobs, Matt had hacked casino security cameras just to see if he could, and Matt hadn’t seen Gavin in seven months. There are some things you just don’t say no to.)

So it goes like this: Matt finds Gavin finds Matt. Matt gets some more money, Gavin gets someone who’ll watch his weird movies with him, and work gets done. It’s a pattern. There aren’t a lot of patterns, in this line of work, so Matt’s willing to hold on to this one. It hasn’t failed him yet. He doesn’t think it’s about to start.

#

Six minutes after the vault is blown, Matt lifts his headset. “Jack, are you good to go in sixty?”

“I’m good to go whenever you say the word,” Jack says. She’s at one of the bars on the casino floor, nursing a glass of whiskey. “How’s the vault?”

“Smashed to bits.”

“Thank god. Jeremy’s okay?”

Matt double-checks the screen; Jeremy is stacking blocks of cash just as easily as Geoff and Trevor. “Yeah, he’s good. Make the call whenever you’re ready.”

“Roger that.” Jack’s back is to the camera, but her shoulders are steady. If Matt didn’t know with absolute certainty this is the toughest thing she’s ever done - what else could she have possibly done? - he’d think that she wasn’t nervous at all. Maybe she isn’t.

There’s a soft beep, and Matt taps a button on his headset to switch channels. “What’s up?”

“Matt,” Gavin says, “I’m heading to the car. Let me know when you’re on your way down.”

“Aye-aye,” Matt says, and looks over all the screens one more time. Ryan, Lindsay, and Kdin are making careful exits, all in uniform. This is the shakiest part of the plan, just because it relies on a little bit of dumb luck, but Matt has faith. They’ve come this far.

Caleb’s door opens, and they poke their head out. “All of our gear is waiting in the van, right?”

“I think so, I can radio Steffie and check if you want.”

“No, that’s good, thanks.” They step out of the room. “How do I look?”

“Like a SWAT team officer,” Matt says. “Steffie is waiting in the van, whenever you’re ready.

“I think I’m ready now.” Caleb starts towards the door but pauses by Matt’s couch. “Be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Matt promises. “This isn’t the kind of thing where you dick around, don’t worry.”

“I’m always worried,” Caleb counters, but they smile at him. “Break a leg.”

“I’m not the one performing,” Matt says. They just wave him off as they leave.

On the screen, Jack has her phone to her ear. Matt immediately reaches for the cell phone on coffee table and sets it on the couch next to him. It’d been a hell of a job, configuring the phone to intercept calls from Elyse’s phone and only hers. It’d also been something of a gamble, but Ryan had worked out a backup, just in case. Trevor had sworn they wouldn’t need it, but Jack had said they might, and that was that.

Trevor was right, of course: when Kdin collapsed, Elyse had been the one to call 911. Matt had made Gavin answer that one; he wanted no chance whatsoever of her recognizing his voice from call to call. Gavin had played it well and sent down a few paramedics to help poor Ms. Harving, and they never needed the backup plan. Matt knows he won’t need it for this call either. Otherwise he’ll eat his fucking shoe. Elyse will be the one making this call.

“Hello, Mr. Kovic,” Jack says. Her voice is completely void of emotion, which is more than Matt would be able to say if he were her. If he’s understanding the situation right, she has good reason to be pissed as all hell at Kovic, but she’s not. She’s just calm. “May I speak to Mr. Willems?”

Matt taps his fingers impatiently against the edge of his laptop. “Thank you,” Jack says. Matt can see the Willems crew on one of the casino floor cameras. Kovic looks completely confused as he hands Willems the phone.

“Hello, Mr. Willems,” Jack says, so pleasantly that Matt almost wants to smile. “I’m the woman who’s robbing you. You might want to check your cameras.”

If Willems weren’t already standing perfectly still, Matt could almost see him freeze, just a second before he breaks into a flurry of motion. Elyse, Greene, and Kovic all follow him, looking stunned. Matt glances over just long enough to see Trevor, Geoff, and Jeremy all stacking the money in the vault. He switches his own communications to theirs. “Jack’s making the call, stay tuned.”

“Gotcha,” Trevor says cheerfully. His voice is fainter than normal, and Matt frowns until he sees Trevor’s earpiece. It’s out of his ear and suspended carefully over a cash cart, probably as a makeshift speaker so they can all hear Matt. He’s suitably impressed, he has to admit. “Hey, Matt, what’s the most money you’ve ever seen in one place?”

“I dropped twenty bucks between the couch cushions once,” Matt says thoughtfully. “And when I was digging it out, I found twenty more bucks. So it might’ve been that.”

“You live a sad, poor life,” Geoff announces. “And Gavin doesn’t pay you enough.”

“Gavin doesn’t pay me at all, he’s never hired me directly.”

“Ask him to show you a hundred dollar bill, at least.”

“He probably has one on him,” Jeremy adds. “He can show it to you right now.”

“Sure,” Matt says, even though he’s absolutely seen more than forty bucks in one place at once. (He worked at a cash register once, and that _totally_ counts. It just wasn’t his money. Not like the money that they’re stacking right now will be. And, hell, that’s a bit of a dizzying thought.) “Hey, I have to go, I should be-”

“Doing your goddamn job?” Geoff says, and turns to face one of the vault cameras. Matt snorts, and Geoff frowns at him. “How do you know you didn’t miss your cue?”

The truthful answer is that he can see Willems in the security hall right now, so he couldn’t possibly be. The right answer involves nodding solemnly, even though Geoff can’t see him. “You’re right, I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

“You do that,” Jeremy says.

Matt switches communication channels. “Jack, if I missed my cue, use the word copacetic in the next sentence.”

Jack’s arm, resting on the table, shifts and drops by her side. Matt doesn’t miss that she’s flipping off the camera. A few seconds later, she rolls her shoulders back. “I’m assuming you’re watching your monitor.”

Matt jumps into action immediately. The trickiest part of this is getting the switches to happen at the same time. He’ll switch to the live feed of the hall, with the unconscious guards, and they’d decided that it was safe for him to use the live feed of the antechamber. But the heist video. the fake bit that they’d filmed in their replica vault? That’s pre-recorded, and he needs to be sure that it goes up at the same time without any flickers of the real image. It’s not impossible, or even tricky, but it’s fucking stressful.

“Keep watching,” Jack says, and Matt hits the button. The stock footage of the calm vaults and halls disappears, and thank god, everything goes up where it should be. He can breathe a little easier now.

Matt has to hand it to Jack: the replica vault was a stroke of genius. She’d blown off most of the team’s praise with some bullshit about how it was sleight-of-hand (“all you have to do is make them think they’re seeing something when you’re actually showing them something else, it’s not a big deal,” yeah fucking right) but it’s smart. It’s incredibly smart.

“That’s not important, Mrs. Willems. What’s important is what comes next.” Jack goes quiet for a handful of seconds and then sighs, almost dramatically. “Oh, Mr. Willems. If only it were that easy for you.” Matt almost wishes he could hear the other half of this conversation. He doesn’t have anything against Willems, not personally, but he wants to see the guy crash and burn anyways.

There’s a quiet beep in Matt’s headset, and he taps the earpiece. “You have twenty seconds.”

“Just checking in,” Steffie says. “Everyone except Jack is in the van.”

“Awesome, thanks. Do you have eyes on Michael?”

“No, but I think Lindsay just checked in with him.”

“He’s good,” Lindsay says cheerfully. “Gavin’s chauffeur is driving him right now. How’s Jack?”

“In the middle of her dramatic speech, so if you don’t mind-”

“You do your job, Matt,” Steffie says. “We’ll be fine.”

Matt taps his headset again and rejoins Jack mid-sentence. She’s going through her whole spiel about the explosives on the money, how it’s all wired to blow up if Willems tries to fuck them over. It’s all good stuff, and he lets his eyes drift across the screens, almost absently.

There’s movement in the security halls.

Matt sits upright. It’s not a guard; he’s in a suit, and he looks furious. “Uh, Jack, Kovic is heading your way. T-minus thirty seconds, he’s moving quick. If you heard me use the word dibs in your next sentence for confirmation.”

Jack doesn’t react physically or even pause in her monologue. “You’ll see that our guys are putting about half of what’s in your vault in their bags - still wired to explode, of course. We called dibs on that and we don’t fuck around with dibs. The other half of your money, the stuff that we’re not putting in bags? It’s rigged with explosives. Think of it as our hostage.”

Kovic is in the bar, but Matt isn’t worried anymore. As long as Jack knows what’s coming, they’re going to be fine. “You let us take our hundred and thirty million dollars, we leave you the other half. It’s still a good night’s profit for you, and for us. Nobody has to get hurt.” She spins around on her stool, faces Kovic, takes a sip of her whiskey. She’s angled just enough that the cameras can’t catch a clear view of her face. Not for the first time, Matt marvels at how damn good she is at this. “You can still come out of this night a rich man, Mr. Willems, if you play your cards right. I’ll leave that up to you. Adam, it’s been a while.”

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Matt says.

“My job, same as ever,” Jack answers. He frowns until he realizes she’s probably having an actual conversation with Adam.

“Call me if you need me,” Matt says, and almost on cue the phone on the couch starts vibrating. He taps his headset once - if anyone actively tries to reach him, he’ll know, but otherwise he’s off the grid - and answers the phone. “911 emergency response.”

“Sir, my name is Elyse Willems, and I’m the floor manager of the Paradise Hotel and Casino on the Las Vegas Strip.” Her voice is brisk, calm, not the way he expected someone being robbed to sound, but he supposes each Willems is full of their own surprises. “Our resort is currently being robbed, we need law enforcement on the premises as quickly as you can manage.”

“Not a problem, Ms. Willems.” Matt opens up a blank text file and makes a show of typing gibberish as loudly as he can, cradling the phone awkwardly between his shoulder and his cheek. “Can you, for security purposes, give us the exact address of your resort?”

“3600 South Las Vegas Boulevard.” There’s a beat, and then she adds, “It’s the one with the fountains.”

Matt barely restrains a snort. It’s not very becoming of an emergency responder to snort. “Thank you for your cooperation. I’ve alerted a SWAT team, they should be there shortly. Can you describe the situation as it stands?”

“There are three people in our casino vault, and they’ve fixed explosives to all of our money. They’re currently loading half of it into duffel bags and leaving the other half. We’re awaiting further instructions.”

“Do the robbers appear armed?”

“No, but they got into our vault, so they’ve got something that either shoots or blows up.” Elyse sighs, frustrated. “You said the SWAT team was on their way?”

“Yes, ma’am. If it would make you more comfortable, I can remain on the phone with you and provide updates on their status.”

“I’ll stay long enough to tell you what she’s asking for.”

“May I ask who ‘she’ is?”

“We received an anonymous call from a woman who planned and executed the heist. One of our employees believes her name is Jack Pattillo, that’s- Bruce, how do you spell Pattillo?” There’s a few seconds of murmuring before Elyse returns. “That’s Pattillo with two T’s and two L’s. She’s been implicated in similar schemes before.”

“I’ll pass that on to the team. Are you in contact with Ms. Pattillo right now?”

“Yes, she’s giving my husband - it’s his casino, he’s the owner - instructions right now, hold on.”

Matt does hold on. He’s going to have to move soon, so he unplugs his laptop and gives the screens one more once-over. Kovic is on his way back to the security halls, and Jack is on the move. He watches her carefully as she goes into a blind spot, and when she comes out her Hawaiian shirt is gone. She disappears into a maintenance hall, en route to Steffie’s SWAT van.

“Okay, we’re sending six guards to the vault elevator to pick up six bags,” Elyse reports, as though Matt doesn’t know exactly what Jack’s orders are. “There’ll be an unmarked van arriving to pick the bags up, but there’s no plan for the robbers to get out of the vault.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Willems,” Matt says. He looks one last time at the screen - there’s a boring beige sedan on the street near the valet station, with Michael just barely visible in the passenger seat - and shuts his laptop. “The SWAT team has been fully informed of your situation and will be arriving shortly.”

“Thank you,” Elyse says, and the call ends.

Matt doesn’t have much time. Willems might not have been expecting a robbery, but he’s not an idiot. Sooner or later he’s going to figure out the pieces to this puzzle. One of those is Kdin, and he can’t be in her suite when that happens. He drops the cell phone on the couch and taps his headset. “SWAT team, Mrs. Willems is expecting you shortly.”

“Gotcha,” Ryan says. “Where’s Jack?”

“On her way out. She’ll probably be offline until she gets to the van, so keep an eye out. Are your SWAT radios ready?”

“They’re all ready. Do you have eyes on the van?”

“My eyes are shut, I need to get the fuck out of here.” Matt picks up his laptop case and unceremoniously drops his laptop in. “Do you think Gavin will buy me a new charger if I ditch this one?”

“Matt, you’re going to have twenty million dollars. You can buy your own charger.”

“I know.” Matt grins as he slings his laptop case over his shoulder. “But it’s better to make other people buy me things. Last chance, did anyone leave any personal effects in the suite?”

“Matt, get the fuck out,” Steffie sighs.

“Yes, ma’am,” Matt says, and leaves the room. He taps his headset again. “Hey, Gavin, where are you parked?”

“Out in front, turn towards the Oasis and you should see me. How’s the money?”

“One step closer to being ours, I think.” He presses the down button for the elevator. “Hey, I had to leave in a hurry, can you buy me a new laptop charger?”

Gavin makes an indignant noise. “You’re about to be rich!”

“Yeah, but you’re already rich.”

“Why would I buy you one?”

“Because you love me?” The elevator dings. Matt hurries in and hits the ground floor button. “And because you can?”

“You can buy your own,” Gavin says firmly.

Matt sighs. It was worth a shot. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Let me check for updates.” He presses his headset again. “Jack, how’re you doing?”

“Twenty seconds from the van, get out of the suite,” Jack says, voice strained.

“I’m halfway to the ground already. Good luck.”

“You too.”

Matt taps his headset, turns it into a head scratch just in case of cameras, and waits for the elevator to ding before he starts his next round of check-ins. “Fake van crew, how’s it going?”

“A little busy,” Michael says, just slightly strained. “JJ?”

“There are at least four sedans following the van,” JJ reports. “We’re leading them to the airport, Michael is a little busy making sure the self-drive doesn’t fail.”

“Is everything rigged to blow?” Michael says.

“Yeah, as far as I know, that should go just fine. Call me if you need me.” Matt pushes the casino door open and taps the headset again. “SWAT?”

“Mr. Greene,” Steffie says. “I’m Officer Tishkoff, I’m leading our team today. What’s the fastest way into your vault?”

Matt turns towards the Oasis, picking up the pace a little. He has one thing left to do on his laptop, and he’d really rather not do it in broad daylight. He catches sight of Gavin’s car and taps the headset one last time. “SWAT’s on their way down.”

“We’re ready for ‘em,” Jeremy says, and Matt damn near sighs in relief. “Everything’s good?”

“Everything’s fucking perfect.” Matt knocks on Gavin’s window. He can hear the door unlock, and he slips into the passenger seat. “We’re right on schedule.”

“Awesome. See you soon, buddy.”

“See you soon,” Matt echoes, and rips his headset off. “You have a SWAT radio, right?”

Gavin lifts a walkie talkie out of a cup-holder. “Can we drive or do you need to be close by?”

“We can drive,” Matt says, pulling his laptop out of his bag. “It’s just one button press.”

“Just one button press,” Gavin repeats disbelievingly. “You know, I can hack.”

Matt glances at him as he opens his laptop. “Really?”

“I’m not as good at you, but I know my way around computers. It’s a lot more than one button press. You’re doing a lot.”

“Everyone’s doing a lot,” he says diplomatically. He starts closing cameras, just to avoid any confusion, until there are only a few left: the feed of the hall, the antechamber, the vault, and the video of the replica vault.

“I’m driving,” Gavin says, a bit put out. “Illegally.”

“We wouldn’t have a replica vault without you, Gav. And our plan would be shittier for it.”

“It’d be shittier without you, too.”

Matt smiles at Gavin, who doesn’t notice, too busy gripping the steering wheel white-knuckled. “That’s the cool thing, I’m pretty sure we needed all twelve of us to pull this off.”

“Thirteen if you count JJ.”

“Is he getting paid?”

“He’s getting a bonus check.”

“Twelve and a half?”

“Twelve and a half,” Gavin agrees, and they turn on to the Strip. “How’s it looking?”

Matt turns up the SWAT radio a little louder. Caleb’s voice crackles across. “All units, prepare to take the hallway. We need a power cut in five.”

“Four,” Gavin murmurs; when Matt glances at him he’s smiling. “Three. Two. One.”

The hallway goes black. Matt cuts out the video from the replica vault, and the pitch-black feed from the real vault takes over. The rest of this is just deceit and lies from the SWAT team, not his problem.

“Remind me how they’re smuggling the extra gear,” Gavin says as he makes a left turn.

“Two of the SWAT bags,” Matt says. He wants to say they’re Caleb and Steffie’s bags, but he can’t be sure, and it doesn’t really matter either way. “While it’s dark and smoky Jeremy and Trevor will put on the extra gear and take their bags, everyone else will load theirs up with cash, and they’ll just carry it out. Willems will never know what hit him.”

“And Michael?”

“He’ll meet us at the warehouse with the the SWAT team.”

“Matt?”

“Yes, Gavin.”

Gavin pulls to a stop. His grin is blinding, even in the dim yellow street light, even with the neon lights all around them. “I think we did it.”

Slowly, Matt closes his laptop and grins back at him. “I think we did too.”

#

The warehouse isn’t abandoned, technically, but one of the things Matt’s learned is that when you’re a casino-owning multimillionaire, people will let you use their warehouse for the night. Gavin’s name carries weight in this city. The warehouse is only a block away from the Strip, well-lit enough to be legitimate and shadowed enough that nobody will pay any attention to the vans and cars.

Michael gets there about fifteen minutes after Matt and Gavin, holding a remote control and grinning like a demon. “We fucking blew it up!” he crows.

Matt can hear the sound of an engine, probably JJ driving away. Gavin makes a delighted noise and bounds towards Michael. “You did it!” He throws his arms around Michael’s neck, and Michael starts laughing, breathless and exhilarated. It’s the laughter of an invincible man. Matt knows the feeling.

“Good job, man,” he says, as soon as Michael pulls away from Gavin.

Michael grins at him and comes over, one hand raised. Matt high-fives him, and he leans over Matt’s shoulder to look at his laptop. The vault camera is still open. Willems and his wife are in the vault, and they look fucking pissed. “Damn,” Michael says. “Do you even need to keep watching?”

“No,” Gavin says, at the same time that Matt says “Better safe than sorry.”

“So that’s a no.”

“That’s a ‘Matt’s a paranoid bastard.’” Gavin actually _pouts_ at him, for some godforsaken reason. “SWAT drove away five minutes ago, they should be here any minute.”

“I’m just making sure Geoff gets out,” Matt says. “No man left behind.”

Michael snorts. “Oh, man, you sound like Jack. Do we have a SWAT radio?”

Matt lifts it up, and Michael takes it. He clears his throat and throws on a fake voice. “Uh, unit 76, this is dispatch, please respond, we have a 2438 on, uh, Tropicana Boulevard and-”

“And Bullshit Avenue, right,” Ryan says.

Michael grins. “Yeah, you know the place.”

“Is it up your ass?”

“Exactly. You on your way?”

Ryan sighs, long-suffering. “No, Michael, I’m not going up your ass.”

“How about the warehouse?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re there in two minutes. We’ll meet the four of you there.”

Michael pauses and mouths _four?_ at Gavin. Gavin makes a big show of pointing at Matt, then Michael, then himself, and then shrugging.

“Uh, I think you counted wrong, Ryan,” Michael says. “Unless you meant JJ, but he’s going back to the villa. Just the three of us here.”

“What happened to Gavin?”

“Nothing!” Gavin says indignantly; Michael moves the walkie so Ryan can hear Gavin better. “And Matt’s here too, so who’s the fourth person?”

“Uh,” Ryan says. “Jack?”

“Isn’t she not in the van with you?”

There are murmurs in the background. When Ryan comes back, he sounds significantly more frazzled. “She said there was a change in plans and that to divert attention from the van that you and JJ were picking her up.”

“To divert attention from the huge, obvious SWAT team van?”

“It made a lot more sense when it was Jack saying it.”

Matt looks back at his computer. He still has security camera access, if he needs it. He might need it. “Gavin, is my headset still in the car?”

“Do you need it?”

“I might.” It’s probably the most direct line they have to Jack right now. He opens the directory of cameras, fingers flying, and pulls up all of the outermost doors of the Paradise. “Ryan, where were you when she got out?”

“We were by - uh, the back left corner?”

Matt opens as many camera feeds of the that parking area that he can. “Was she still in SWAT gear?”

“No, she took her extra stuff off. She was down to a T-shirt and slacks, I think.”

“So she’s walking around in all black in the middle of the night.”

“I know that doesn’t make your job any easier.”

“This job was never easy.”

“Headset,” Gavin says, and drops it in Matt’s lap. Matt hadn’t even noticed him leave, but he slips it on anyways. “Ryan, I could see your headlights outside.”

“Hopefully you’ll know what’s going on by the time we’re parked,” Ryan says grimly.

Matt taps his headset. “Whose feed is this?”

“Trevor’s. What’s going on?”

“A shitstorm.” He taps it again. “Who’s this?”

“Can you seriously not tell?” Michael demands.

“It’s faster to ask.”

“Excuse me,” Jack says on the other end, charmingly polite. “I was wondering if you can tell Mr. Willems that I’m here to see him?”

“Jack, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Tell him it’s Ms. Pattillo. And that it’d be for the best if he talked to me and Mr. Ramsey at the same time.”

“At least tell me which fucking camera you’re on so I can find you.” Matt starts scrolling through the feeds. She has to be talking to a guard, which means she’s probably near one of the doors, probably one off to the side where the SWAT van dropped her off.

“Sixteen,” Jack says.

The door to the warehouse slams open. Matt finds camera sixteen. It’s her, all right, and she doesn’t look like she has a goddamn care in the world.

“Maybe warn us before you go off script,” Matt says. “Just an idea.”

The guard starts through the casino, and Jack follows him. “If I warned you, you would’ve said no.”

So much for trying to be subtle, apparently. This is blatant conversation with someone the guard can’t hear. He’s giving her a strange look, but she ignores it. Matt frowns. “That’s because this is a bad goddamn choice, Jack, what the hell are you doing?”

“There aren’t going to be cameras where we’re going, you know.”

“So take out your earpiece so we have a way to monitor if you’re being _murdered._ ”

“How’s the rest of the plan going?”

“We’re all here.” Matt glances up and assesses the situation. Gavin and Ryan are standing over him worriedly. There are eight SWAT gear bags in the middle of the room. “Is that our money?”

“All of it,” Caleb says. “What’s happening?”

“Jack is going off script. Hang on.” He hits a few keys and transfers Jack’s feed to his laptop speakers. “Everyone can hear you now. We’ve got all the money.”

On screen, the guard swipes a keycard, and Jack follows him into the security hallway. “Good job, everyone. Out of curiosity, how do you feel about doing this again?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Steffie says immediately. “This was stressful enough.”

“And Willems was kind of nice,” Kdin admits. Matt looks at her in surprise, but she just shrugs. “He’s not a bad guy.”

“Wrong definition of this,” Jack says. She turns a corner and vanishes on screen, but Matt can hear a door open. “Hi, Geoff.”

“Oh my god, what the fuck,” Geoff says, faint in the background. “What are you doing here?”

“There’s been a change in plans. It turns out your revenge fantasy didn’t work.” There are some rustling noises and then a snap. “Earpiece is on the table, everyone can hear everyone.”

“Good, then maybe someone can explain what Jack’s doing here,” Geoff snaps. “Who let her out of the van?”

“Guilty,” Ryan says sheepishly. “She was pretty convincing.”

Geoff sighs. (Matt is pretty solidly certain that he’d be pissed if it were anyone other than Ryan. Gavin had mentioned the story of Geoff’s crush to him, a couple years ago, back when Matt first met Ryan. He’s glad that the story is true.) “Okay, what didn’t work?”

“Adam and Bruce didn’t turn us in,” Jack says. “They outsourced. It was Skistmas.”

“Craig?” Gavin bursts out, looking genuinely distraught. “Really?”

Matt absently reaches up and pats at Gavin’s elbow. “What does that mean for the rest of us, Jack?”

“Well,” Jack begins, but before she can finish, there’s a loud bang from her end. “Mr. Willems. Nice to meet you.”

“Jack, don’t shake his hand,” Geoff mutters.

“And you, Mrs. Willems. Good to see you again.”

“I could have you arrested right the fuck now,” Willems says. He sounds matter-of-fact about it, like he’s talking about the weather. “I have more than enough eyewitness accounts from my security officers to confirm that you called me earlier and robbed my casino. And Adam seems pretty adamant that Geoff is breaking parole, even if he wasn’t involved in the robbery.”

“Hey, fuck you, we’re not on a first name basis,” Geoff snaps.

“And I could have you killed,” Elyse adds. “You know. Pretty easily.”

“Yeah, she could,” James says. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t let my wife have you killed.”

“There’s a listening device in the middle of the table.” There’s a drumming sound, probably Jack’s fingers on the table. “I have somewhere between five and fifteen people documenting this conversation right now. Not that you can hear them.”

Matt almost curses out loud, but he taps a couple keys and mutes their feed. “Okay, what the fuck.”

“She has a plan,” Ryan says. He almost sounds confident in it, too.

“Okay, you’ve got me,” James says. “You robbed me, what the fuck else do you want?”

“I have a business proposition.”

“Yeah, she does,” Geoff says.

Ryan shakes his head. “He doesn’t sound like he knows what he’s doing.”

“He never does,” Caleb murmurs.

“Business,” Elyse says flatly.

Matt wishes there were cameras. He wishes he could see what’s going on, he feels fucking blind and helpless, but he can still imagine Jack’s smile. “How much did you lose tonight, Mrs. Willems?”

The scary thing about Jack, as far as Matt can tell, is not her business savvy. It’s not that she can rob three casinos in one night, and it’s not even that she can walk back into one of those casinos with a half-baked plan and no guarantee of backup. No, the scary thing about Jack is that she smiles like she means it. Like she enjoys what she does, heart and fucking soul, and that what she does happens to ruin lives. The scary thing about Jack is that she’s probably having the time of her life right now.

“Upwards of two hundred and sixty million dollars,” Elyse grits out.

“Hang on,” Geoff interrupts. “For the sake of proving we’re not bluffing - does anyone on the other end of this earpiece have a more specific number?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy says suddenly. “I was trying to count as we were stacking.”

“Try and disguise your voice,” Kdin says worriedly.

Matt flips the switch, and Jeremy takes a step forward. “I would estimate two sixty-one, plus around four hundred thousand more. Give or take.”

“That’s not disguised at all,” Kdin whispers. Matt closes the line.

“Elyse?” James murmurs.

“He’s right,” Elyse says. “I got the number back. That’s what we lost.”

“You’re not getting it back,” Jack says. “Not tonight. But I believe you know why we targeted Funhaus - the initial reason, at least.”

“Bruce and Adam,” James says.

“I wasn’t very happy with them selling me up the river,” Geoff explains. He’s more confident now. Matt thinks he might’ve cottoned to whatever Jack’s planning. “But then tonight we found out, son of a bitch, they weren’t the ones who got me sent to prison!”

“Mr. Willems, Mrs. Willems. Are you familiar with a Mr. Skistmas?”

“In New Jersey.” Elyse sounds puzzled. “He is to Atlantic City what we are to Las Vegas, only bigger.”

“And nastier,” James adds. “Like, we’re awful people, we’ve ruined businesses, but we do it for security reasons. His crew does it because it’s fun.”

“Skistmas,” Ryan echoes. “They mean Craig?”

“I’ve worked with him,” Lindsay says, surprised. “He’s got this demolition expert, a total jackass, ugly haircut but he’s a genius. I’ve worked with him a few times.” Michael nods beside her.

“Let me be frank with you,” Jack says. “I don’t care about Funhaus. I don’t give a single solitary fuck about any of you. In fact, I’d give you your money back, if we didn’t have people to pay. But today I learned that a man whose business potentially rivals your own was intentionally responsible for ruining my best friend’s life. Today I also learned that casinos aren’t impenetrable, and that if any team can get into them, it’s the one we have assembled today.”

“So what?” James demands. “I’m not a patient person, Ms. Pattillo, I need to know your plan.”

“By the end of the year, Funhaus will have their money back,” Jack says. The warehouse goes dead quiet, everyone wide-eyed. Matt leans in. “Because we’re going to steal it from Craig Skistmas.”

“Oh my god,” Michael says. “No way. Bad idea.”

“With interest?” Elyse says.

“With interest and with enough to pay our crew a shitton,” Geoff says. “We’re going to fuck him where it counts. It just might take a while.”

“We’ll work out the details later,” Jack says. “All I need is a confirmation from my crew and from you two. We’ll work with anyone you request as long as they’re competent. Bruce and Adam-”

“Will make their own choices,” James says sharply. “Let’s wait for word from your team.”

Matt looks around the room. “What are we thinking?”

“This is a bad idea,” Michael says again, but Lindsay elbows him in the ribs. “Ow, Jesus, what?”

“This time was a bad idea too,” Lindsay says. “And I’d love to kick Skistmas in the dick.”

“They said it won’t be immediate?” Kdin taps her chin. “I’ll give a tentative yes. But don’t keep be surprised if I can’t.”

“Sure,” Caleb says. Steffie looks at them in surprise, but they shrug. “This is the most I’ve done in literal years. I missed having an actual job.”

“If Caleb’s in, I’m in,” Steffie decides.

“You work for me,” Gavin says indignantly. “It’s a yes from me, but Steffie!”

“Yeah, I’m quitting, Caleb and I are getting a cabin in the woods together.”

Gavin’s jaw drops. Caleb shrugs again, unapologetic.

“I could always use more money,” Trevor murmurs. “And an excuse to get out of Vegas.”

“Agreed, fuck this city,” Jeremy snorts. “We’re in.”

“And I’m always willing to do anything Jack plans.” Ryan looks down. “Matt?”

Matt unmutes the line. “General consensus is as long as we get a break first, we’re in.”

“Is that the 911 operator?” Elyse demands. “The 911 call was fake?”

Matt winces. “Sorry, Mrs. Willems. If it helps, you were the nicest 911 caller I ever talked to.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Geoff sighs. Matt mutes the line. “So?”

“We let you walk away today after a massive loss,” James says. “But we get our money back. And we get to watch Skistmas flounder.”

“Those are our terms, yes.”

There’s a long silence. Matt can’t guess what’s happening, but after a minute there’s a heavy sigh. “Get the hell out of our casino,” James says heavily. “We’ll call you.”

“I’m sure Bruce or Adam can track me down,” Jack says smoothly. “Thank you for doing business.”

“Seriously, get out,” Elyse says. “And tell your fucking crew that they’d better not come to a Funhaus casino anytime soon.”

Matt shuts his laptop and looks around the room. There’s something electric to it, something exciting. He doesn’t know what it means, but he knows what’s next in the plan. “Everyone ready?”

“One last hurrah,” Ryan says, and helps Matt to his feet. “Let’s go.”

#

Matt doesn’t live in Las Vegas - doesn’t really live anywhere, except where there’s work - but he’s visited Gavin more than enough times that he knows the Strip. Even if he’s never been to the warehouse before, he knows the way back to the Paradise. They’re all quiet as they walk, one by one. He’s trailing near the back, but he still keeps up with the group. This is their last moment together.

There are fountains, in front of the Paradise, that put on a water show every half hour. The show is just starting when they get there, jets of water spraying up. Nighttime means nothing in Las Vegas, with all the ugly neon lights, but the fountains are still brightly lit.

Gavin, in the front of the group, is the first one to see Geoff and Jack in front of the fountains. He runs for them and almost tackles them in a hug, throwing one arm around each of their necks. Ryan’s next, hugging them individually, and then going to stand by the fence in front of the fountains.

Steffie shakes hands with both of them. Caleb allows Geoff to pull them into a hug. Kdin only shakes hands, and so do Jeremy and Trevor. Lindsay opts for high-fives; Michael doesn’t touch them at all, but he’s grinning as he talks to them. One by one, they all go to the fence, lean in, watch the show.

Matt is the last one to reach Jack and Geoff. Jack smiles at him. Not her work smile, but something warmer. “Good job with the cameras.”

“And picking up on that unscripted bit at the end of the night,” Geoff adds, tossing a glare Jack’s way. She looks totally unrepentant, so Geoff just looks back at Matt. “We’ll be calling you.”

“Why, because I have everyone else’s contact info?”

“That and we like you.”

“And Gavin likes you,” Jack adds. “That means a lot.”

The fountains bloom in the background. Matt smiles. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Be sure you are,” Geoff says.

Matt takes his leave, walking along the fence until he finds Gavin. He stops next to him in front of the fence. “I’ve never seen the fountains before.”

Gavin hums. “They’re not that great.”

“They’re sort of cool.”

“Yeah, but only sort of.” Gavin grins at him lopsided. “You’re the only one staying with me, after all this.”

“I kind of have to.”

“Yeah, but after that, too. You heard Willems, she said get out of town. Where do you want to go?”

Matt thinks about it for a minute. He could say anywhere and Gavin could make it happen. “Meg sent me a postcard from Ibiza last week.”

“Ibiza, really? Thought she was in Italy.”

“No, it definitely said Ibiza. Can we go to Ibiza?”

“Course we can.”

The fountains are impressive. There’s a song playing, something classical that Matt almost recognizes in his fingertips. The water is spraying back and forth, dozens of jets lighting up the front of the Paradise. He’s seen bits of the show, through security cameras. He could name every camera right now, has seen the same pieces of choreography a dozen times over, knows the routine inside and out. He can tell when the bigger jets of water are about to spray, make the tourists around them ooh and ahh. He knows which cameras he’s on right now. He wants to shut them off, wire in stock footage, make himself invisible.

Matt stole over a quarter of a billion dollars today. He earned a break.

Kdin is first to leave, so quietly that he almost doesn’t notice her. He just happens to glance over as she passes by. She waves at him and vanishes into the night. Matt thinks about St. Petersburg and whatever’s waiting for her there. He hopes she finds it.

Everyone drifts off faster after that. Steffie stops to whisper something to Gavin before she and Caleb leave. Trevor and Jeremy, a handful of seconds apart from one another, both clap Matt on the shoulder on their way out; he waves them off. Gavin goes to say goodbye to Michael and Lindsay as soon as they start walking. When he comes back he looks almost peaceful. The fountains are still putting on a show. Matt isn’t looking anymore.

“We should get to the warehouse,” Gavin murmurs. He’s right: they have security measures in place, but there’s still a lot of fucking money in that warehouse. They need to transfer it out to virtual accounts, preferably by the end of the night, definitely without getting flagged. Their work isn’t done, even if Matt could do this in his sleep.

“Yeah,” Matt agrees at last, and steps away from the fence. “You wanna say goodbye?”

“Already did.”

Matt looks down the fence. Geoff is leaning on the fence heavily, eyes fixed on the fountains. Ryan is on his left, standing tall, smiling. Jack is on Geoff’s right, one hand resting on the fence, face lit up. They all look peaceful.

“Let’s go,” Matt says. He hears, not sees, the grand finale. He doesn’t turn around.

#

Before they get on the plane to Ibiza, waiting for them on the tarmac in the early Sunday light, Gavin hands Matt a box. “Here.”

Matt turns it over in his hands. It’s a laptop charger.

“I thought you said I could buy my own,” he says, trying not to sound too obviously delighted.

“You can,” Gavin says. “I could do it faster.”

“Thank you.”

“It cost literally nothing. Peanuts. Atoms.”

“Thanks anyways,” Matt says. JJ is already in the plane, and he waves them on without ceremony. “You ever been to Ibiza?”

“Never.”

“Neither have I.”

“You going to be working on the plane?”

Matt shrugs. Jack already emailed him some preliminary research about Skistmas, but it’s nothing he couldn’t find with a Google search. “I think we can have a day off.”

Gavin grins at him as JJ closes the cabin door. “For now?”

“Yeah,” Matt says. He sets the laptop on the seat next to him, goes to his carry-on that JJ already stowed on the plane this morning, and gets ready to take a fucking nap. “For now.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write FAHC and I've always wanted an Ocean's Eleven AU, so this has been a hell of a lot of fun. Thank you to everyone who read, commented, kudos'd, or otherwise enjoyed this fic!
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic, you can keep up with me by subscribing to me on Ao3 or following me on [Tumblr](http://pervincetosscobble.tumblr.com) or [Twitter.](http://twitter.com/ezrabridgers) Thanks, everybody!


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